


circumnavigation

by ironicpotential, TaFuilLiom



Series: covenant [2]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Family Fluff, Injury, Maggie Sawyer Backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicpotential/pseuds/ironicpotential, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaFuilLiom/pseuds/TaFuilLiom
Summary: Maggie sees that moment of realisation, of resignation. Sees the moment when she can’t keep the truth from Jamie any longer. This is the moment Jamie’s world falls down around her, that her childhood is shattered.That she may never trust any of them again.
Relationships: Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer
Series: covenant [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567507
Comments: 55
Kudos: 208





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We're back! Thanks to everyone who read and commented and memed covenant. We hope you enjoy the latest adventures of the Sawyer-Danvers family.

Her father may not be Superman. He may not be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound or run faster than a speeding bullet, but he’s as close to a superhero as any human she’s ever met. 

He chooses to put his life on the line to protect and serve his community every day, even though it means she doesn’t see him as much as she would like. He’s busy catching bad guys, making the world a safer place. 

She rarely pushes him, rarely begs. But today is a special day, so she sets her chin on the arm of the chair, silently pleading. He closes his newspaper. 

“You look like a little puppy waiting to be fed.”

She bites her lower lip, feeling the gap from where she lost a tooth last week. “Please, Papi?”

His newspaper crumples into his lap and for a second she panics, thinking he’s going to refuse. 

His days off are cherished. He has to work much longer and harder than his peers to succeed, or so he’s told her. He says he can never afford to be anything less than stellar at his job. He never calls in sick, and rarely takes days off. 

But today is the Taste of Nebraska Balloon and Food Fest in Omaha, so here she is, asking him to use his time off to go somewhere she wants. 

The clock on the mantle ticks as he deliberates. She reads the warped sports headlines on the rumpled paper, trying to concentrate on the coloured jerseys and not on her pounding heart. 

“Okay, baby,” he says finally, heaving himself out of his armchair, “Go and get your shoes on.”

Her mother had warned her not to eat too much sugar, but when Maggie hops from her father’s cruiser and the cloyingly sweet scent of funnel cakes greets her, those warnings float away from her above the red and white striped tent tops. She and her father have gone to this festival every year since she could remember; eating too much, laughing a lot, and filling the car with plenty of treats for them to enjoy for as long as they made it last. 

They weave in and out of the food stalls, her father stopping to sample all the spiced meats and roasted nuts. When he goes to barter over some sausages in Spanish, she wanders off in search of her own snack. She darts around the other festival goers, ducking through the stall queues snaking around the fairground until she finds an emerald green stall in the corner devoid of any line. It’s staffed by two women with tie-dyed shirts and kind smiles, and Maggie isn’t sure why there isn’t more business. It smells _delicious_! She raises herself up on tip-toe to reach the counter, the five dollar bill her father had given her crinkled in her fist. 

One of the women— the one with the big hoop earrings— leans forward over the counter, flashing her a friendly smile. “What can I get you, sweetheart?”

Maggie looks over at the chilled glass case to her right, filled with bins of freshly churned ice cream. Her mouth waters. 

“Ah, ice cream. A girl after my own heart.” 

Maggie bites her lip. She loves ice cream, but it always upsets her stomach. She tells Hoop Earrings as much.

“It makes my tummy all rumbly. My mama says I might have um...laptose in taller pants?”

Hoop Earrings’ smile only grows. The other woman— the one with the short hair— gathers up a scoop of strawberry and hands Maggie a cone. She eyes the treat skeptically and Short Hair laughs. 

“It’s _vegan_ ,” she says, “It doesn’t have any of the things that make your stomach grumbly.”

Against her better judgement, she samples the cone, the sweet flavor dancing across her taste buds. It’s delicious. She’s heard her uncle talk about vegans with contempt, but if they make ice cream this good, they can’t be all that bad. 

Over the vendors hawking their wares, she picks up her father’s voice. She quickly shoves the last of her cone in her mouth, brushing the crumbs from her shirt. She’s not supposed to have dessert before lunch, but what her father doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, Taste of Nebraska is a special occasion. 

Her father ruffles her hair and hands her a corn dog. It’s not vegan ice cream, but it’s a suitable lunch. 

“Where did you go to, Margarita?”

“Um…” Her corn dog wobbles in her fist at the thought of lying so she clutches it tighter. 

Thankfully, her father just smiles and puts his arm around her shoulders. “Always so curious. It’ll get you into trouble, one day.”

A shadow drifts over them, cutting out the warm afternoon sun. Maggie looks up in awe as she takes in the sight of a massive hot air balloon wafting by.

She’s been fascinated with them since the very first time her father took her to the festival. Every year she’s wanted to try, but until this year she’s been too young. Now though, she’s six years old and she’s _ready_ _to fly_.

She turns to her father, corn dog waving precariously. “Can I go up in one? Please?”

Even in the shadow of the balloon, she sees the refusal in his face. The sigh he makes is the same sigh when she asks for Coco Puffs at the grocery store instead of the generic brand. Still, she tugs at his sleeve, hoping that this time will be different.

“Papi, please?”

He shakes his head, squinting as the balloon passes and they’re once again basked in bright sunlight. “I’m sorry, Margarita. It’s just not safe.”

“But it looks...amazing.” 

Up in the sky, the various balloons create a tapestry of colour against the bright blue. Nearby, two young parents help their children into a basket, their cheers ringing through the air. Maggie has never felt so envious.

His arm tightens around her shoulders, but it does little to lift her spirits. “I know, sweetheart. Maybe when you’re older.”

Older. That was the promise. Every year, it doesn’t happen. There’s always an excuse, and while she grows firmer with her years and maturity, she’s still afraid to go against her father’s word. When he puts his foot down, she knows she must respect him having the final say. 

The festival before she’s thrown out is cancelled due to rain. Instead of floating among the clouds, she spends the day cooped up in the car, the band t-shirt she’d picked out for the anticipated photograph soaked.

Then the year after that, she can’t go.

But even as she loses so much else, her love for this persists.

~

She doodles balloons in the margins of her notes in high school, reminding herself to rise above the rumours and the whispers in the hall. 

She hangs a glossy poster on the wall of her dorm room to inspire her to stay afloat amidst tests and assignments. 

And when her days as a beat cop become too hard to bear— when she isn’t sure if she’ll ever get the stench of death out of her clothes— she drives by a specific colourful billboard on Schuster Ave. The slogan might read that the “Sky’s the Limit” with National City Bank, but for Maggie, the cartoon of the hot air balloon is a rallying call to never give up. 

She would sit on the hood of her cruiser, looking up past her peaked cap at that cartoon, knowing that someday she would rise up, climb the law enforcement ladder. 

And finally, with Alex. Before she gets the courage to ask Maggie back to her apartment— back to her bed for the first time— they drive their bikes out into the desert and head up a winding road to a high ridge. There, they watch two balloons like slow dancing shadows against the sunset. 

She is entranced by them as always, their fluid movements. Not much could tear her attention from their lazy trek across the sky. Except when she notices Alex isn’t paying attention. She stares at Maggie’s lips, and in the dusk that paints shadows of Alex’s profile, she sees the want. What Alex won’t ask for, is still shy about taking. 

She meets Maggie’s eyes, aware that she’s caught. 

Then they’re kissing- 

Not much can lift Maggie from her fascination with balloons. There isn’t much she can admit to being so infatuated with. 

\- And kissing - 

But with Alex hands tightening against her hips, leaning back against her bike, her balloons are forgotten. 

~

The chopping sound of helicopter blades, or the approximation of them. A voice muffled into a plastic police radio. 

“Agent Pickles, you need to save the citizens of the city while I distract the aliens!” 

But another police announcement buzzes in - 

_“Supergirl! There’s not enough time! The aliens have spotted you!”_

The hero whirls around, gasping in shock. Her red cape flutters with the movement. Or rather, the off-pink towel tied around her neck in imitation. 

“No! They’re coming!” 

Jamie leaps over a pile of blocks on the rug, Pickles under her arm, and darts towards the kitchen. 

Alex raises her eyebrow as Maggie sets the second plastic radio down onto the couch. “I think you’re growing attached to that thing.”

“Maybe I’ll show her the real one, next time.” 

Snorting, Alex returns to the laptop screen. Icons and icons scroll up as she mouses down. A wealth of information lying behind each one. Yet before now, Maggie and Alex have never viewed them together. 

Jamie had very quickly grown bored of trips down memory lane, scrambling down from Alex’s lap to resume an earlier game. She and Alex continue to go through the family photos on her computer, piecing together those years before Jamie had travelled to their Earth. 

The folder which holds the only memories of Jamie’s early years, recovered from the wreckage of her pod, has now grown to include pictures of birthdays and family vacations, trips to the beach and to Disneyland. 

Maggie catches a glimpse of something and clutches Alex’s arm. “Wait, stop.” Alex’s finger stills on the trackpad of her laptop. “There. Click that one.”

Without comment, Alex clicks and zooms in on the selected photo. 

Maggie must have looked through these photos hundreds of times, but she’s never noticed this detail before. “Wow.”

“What?” Alex leans further into her space. The picture is the three of them, Jamie in their arms - the _other_ Alex and Maggie’s. The girl is maybe only 3 years old. 

“This…” She points to the hot air balloons in the distance. 

Balloons. And striped-topped stalls. In the background, patrons with baked goods, ice cream cones, corn dogs- 

“Oh.” Alex stares at the photo, the brightness of the screen reflected in her glasses. “You didn’t notice?”

“I didn’t.”

While she had clung to the symbol of the hot air balloon for most of her teenage and adult years, Maggie cauterized the idea of the festival, of those years she counted down the days until the Taste of Nebraska. She pushed the tents, the carousels, the damn funnel cake far back into the reaches of her memories and locked the door. 

Obviously, the other Maggie hadn’t done the same. She had unlocked that door and shared the delights of the festival with her daughter. Sure, it might not have been the Taste of Nebraska they attended, but that childhood delight that Maggie had stamped out after being rejected from her childhood home had been revived and allowed to breathe once more. 

“What do you think this was?” Maggie asks, thumbing over the balloon on the screen. 

_“Please, Papi?”_

_Tugging on his sleeve. Never old enough. Never good enough -_

_I’m already good._

Self-conscious, she retracts her thumb, relieved that no smear is left behind. 

“Doesn’t matter. If there’s a hot air balloon you’re there, right?” Alex shifts to face her wife.

 _I’m already good_. 

That’s what she had said to him. That confrontation has healed so many lingering aches from her childhood. Why should she allow the trauma he inflicted to take away those memories too?

Yes, she may never fully enjoy the memories of him treating her to corn dogs or sitting with her as they watched the bandstand, but the sun on her face, the music, the funnel cake, why shouldn’t she share those experiences with Jamie?

Or...

Alex is pensive, but patient, beside her. When they had originally been together, Maggie had happily shared her love of hot air balloons with Alex, who had many a joke and pun to make. Even Kara, as strained as their friendship had been, once told her about zipping between balloons at an international festival in Europe after going to help with the rescue operation following a severe earthquake. 

But the festival, she has never brought it up. Being a kid, wanting to go every year, the dream of rising up above Omaha and looking for miles and miles, that she has buried deep down. A grave she never visited. 

Until now. 

“Do you know why?” she asks.

“Why what?”

Maggie indicates the photograph. “Why I love hot air balloons?”

Alex opens her mouth, then closes it. “Actually, no. You never told me.”

“No.” Maggie inches forward and looks into the kitchen. Jamie sneaks around the island, as if waiting for a villain around the corner. Content that she is safely out of earshot, she pushes on. “It’s because my dad took me to a balloon festival every year.”

Alex keeps her attention on Maggie, but reaches out and slowly closes the lid on the laptop. She sets it off to one side, and inches around to face her wife fully. 

Maggie takes a deep breath. Funnel cakes. Carousel. Balloons. 

_Please, Papi?_

“Every year I wanted to go up in one of the…” She waves her hand. “Damn balloons. But every year he said no. Still, I loved it. The music, the culture. A kid from Blue Springs didn’t get to try food like that every day.”

“I get that,” Alex smiles, shy. She toys with the lip of the couch cushion. “I actually have a pretty fond memory of the first time you told me how much you loved the balloons.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, um…” Alex palms the back of her neck. “You remember that date we had? Where we ate at that out of town restaurant, and then we took a drive up towards the desert and there were all those hot air balloons?”

Maggie remembers the feeling of Alex next to her, leaning up against her motorbike, looking out at the fading sunset as the balloons brushed the stars. The only thing more beautiful had been the woman beside her.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Well um…” Alex laces her hands together. “You know, obviously, what happened after and, well, that whole night is kinda seared into my memory. You looked so happy to see the balloons, and it was so beautiful…”

The events of that night flash through her mind— the golden sand tinged in the sunset, laid out below them like a crimson blanket; their matching smiles, Alex leaning over to kiss her, and then—

“The whole night, huh?”

Heat rises to her cheeks. She vividly recalls going back to Alex’s place, stumbling through the hall in between kisses, roaming hands and hushed pleas, then finally that shared release. 

Their first time. 

“ _Crrk!”_

Referencing that unforgettable night is like pushing a trigger.

They’ve always gravitated towards each other— the raw magnetism of two people so meant for one another. But that first time, Alex’s expression shifting from nerves to lust and back again, hands growing more confident on skin it had only just begun to explore. 

_“CRRK!”_

Trancelike, she leans in just a few inches. Seeing Alex’s lips part just so in invitation. 

She can almost feel the startled puff of damp breath against her collarbone, fingers fumbling at the button of her - 

_“MOMMY!”_

Huffing for attention, Jamie hops from one foot to the other in front of them. Rolling her eyes, Alex moves the laptop to the coffee table so Jamie can bounce onto the couch. She wiggles around until she’s settled between her moms, Officer Pickles in her lap. 

Alex smooths down her hair. “You saved the civilians?”

“They can wait.” Jamie lolls back onto the couch, groaning, “I got _bored_.”

Maggie grins at the elongated _o_ sound. “Don’t sound like much of a hero if you get bored before completing your duties.”

Jamie pouts, throwing her plastic radio to the other side of Alex. She wiggles her toes in her socked feet. “Can we watch Doc McStuffins?”

Alex queues up an episode on Netflix, slipping back into her role as a mother. But Maggie’s head fills with the soft words exchanged when only a single bedsheet and moonlight lay between them. 

_“The hot air makes the balloon rise right?”_

_While she was always careful to correct a scientist, Maggie knew this area inside and out. There was no room for error with her, no generalizations: “Well, sort of…”_

_When Maggie was finished her explanation, Alex purred, “Well, you’ve taught me something new, tonight.”_

_Maggie saw her grinning like a wildcat through the moonlight. “Oh, that’s not the only thing I’ve taught you.”_

_Alex’s grin grew practically feral as she raised above Maggie, holding herself high on her arms. “Well, physics is not my area of expertise. But chemistry, hmmm…” She leaned down and rested on her forearms, bringing them nose to nose. “That I know inside out.”_

_Maggie shifted, letting her legs drop open wider, sliding her hands up Alex’s ribcage. “Care to demonstrate?”_

_“Absolutely…” She dipped and kissed Maggie’s jaw. “I know my periodic table inside out.”_

_Her breathing faltered as Alex pushed her hips down just as she traced up to Maggie’s ear with her tongue. “You do?”_

_“Mmmhmm. Elements and symbols.”_

_Alex’s tongue was light on her collarbone, tracing the symbol for Hydrogen with slow, steady strokes. Whispering scientific names that would soon be drowned out by gasps as Alex neared her navel one element at a time…._

Maggie feels the cool hood of her cruiser as she stared up at those billboards, the vibrant balloon rising up, the inspiring advertising slogan. The billboard itself had been a snapshot of the television commercial, which had also featured the rising balloon. 

“Seared into your memory, huh?” she murmurs over Jamie’s head, purposefully vague. "Repeats of that old National City Bank commercial must have you raring to go...”

“ _Shhhh_!” Jamie scolds. 

Alex remains focused on the screen, but Maggie doesn’t miss the flush dusting her cheeks or the smile playing at the corner of her mouth. 

(She certainly doesn’t deny it).

A few days later over dinner, Alex slides a brochure across the table. The words _Golden State Balloon and Wine Festival_ are written across the front in glossy letters. 

Maggie blinks, looking up from her laptop to see Alex twisting her wedding ring around her finger. 

“It isn’t the Taste of Nebraska Balloon and Food Fest, so I guess the stalls and everything will be different,” she rambles, “but I thought maybe we could go this weekend?”

Maggie doesn’t hesitate in her response. 

So they go, all three of them piling into their SUV the following Saturday morning. She cracks the window and lets the breeze take her back to the drive down Route 6. But it’s the moment that she steps out of the car onto the dusty fairground and smells the freshly baked funnel cake that she is truly warped back in time. 

Pain tightens her chest as she takes in the striped tents, the music blaring out from stereos. This was a bad idea, she panics, nausea washing over her. This was stupid. How could she reclaim such childish memories? She’s a grown woman. Why would she think returning something she lost as a child would be any kind of emancipating moment?

Jamie grabs her hand, making her jump. “Can we get cotton candy?”

Maggie stares down into Jamie’s innocent eyes, filling to the brim with excitement. “Please, mommy, can we?”

_Please, Papi._

“Yes we can,” Maggie agrees, voice tight. “We can try everything here.”

And they do. They try all of the delicacies, regardless of their sugar content. She even gets to hear Alex talking in fluent Russian to one of the stall owners, an old woman who is so happy to speak her native language that she gives them a bunch of goodies for free. 

She watches, heart full, as Alex teaches their daughter to say _bol'shoye spasibo._

Maggie twists her wedding ring around her finger, the diamond glinting in the sunshine. She thought that after she went to her aunt’s that she would never get to see a day like this; but now, here with her family, all of those summer days return to her— the smell of wild grass, the chatter of the marketplace, the whoosh of air as the balloons go up, climbing gracefully into the sky. 

Here she is, reclaiming another piece of her innocence, the childhood she’d thought had been permanently tainted. She watches as Jamie gets a piggyback from Alex, Officer Pickles peering out from her backpack. She’s giggling and staring up with the same kind of wonder that Maggie probably had when she was a kid. 

It’s her duty now to ensure that Jamie never loses that sense of wonder. 

They gallop over to her, showering her with love, and once again, she heals. 

_I’m already good._

And then it happens. Jamie stops dead at the shadow rising up over the fairground. 

“Woah,” she breathes, “Is that a balloon?”

“It is,” Alex says, grinning at Maggie, who flushes.

“It’s huge!”

“It is!”

Jamie shields her eyes from the sun, and then gasps, pointing. “Mom, there’s people up there!”

Alex spots the sign first, making a noise in her throat: _Minimum age: 10._

“I’m sorry baby,” she says, ruffling Jamie’s hair. “You’re not old enough to try it yet.”

Jamie’s face falls. She sees the sign, the number, and counts on her fingers. She comes to the same conclusion. “No, I’m too little.”

_I’m sorry, Margarita._

“But you won’t be little forever,” Maggie assures, crouching down, “One day you’ll be ten, and you can go up in the balloon.”

“I’ll be so old,” Jamie complains, kicking at the dust.

“I know.” 

Jamie pouts, a mini-Alex Danvers if Maggie ever saw one. She’ll have a word with her wife and sister-in-law for teaching her the _Danvers Pout_ when they get home, but for now she catches small shoulders in her hands. 

“Hey, how about we grab that cotton candy and then you get a go on the bouncy castle?” Maggie says, offering a consolation prize. 

Jamie nods, still crest-fallen, and trails after them. 

Later, as the sun slowly sinks beneath the horizon, painting the sky in all those bright, hazy hues, she and Alex sit on a picnic bench. They’re just near enough to keep an eye on Jamie, whose earlier disappointment had been soothed by the excitement of the Supergirl branded bouncy castle. 

They trade bites of a sweet, flaky pastry and Alex swipes some sugar off her cheek. “You’re beautiful like this, you know that?” she says, her eyes crinkling. 

“I can’t help it.” Maggie playfully kicks her under the table. “Hey did you know that the record for altitude in a hot air balloon is almost 69,000 feet? Maybe I should get my pilot’s license to try and beat it.” 

Alex grins, kicking her back and mumbling, “Nerd.”

~

They have to carry Jamie back to the car, as she falls fast asleep on Alex’s shoulder. She doesn’t stir as they put her in the back and drape her in a blanket. 

Maggie agrees to drive back, as Alex drove here, but she pauses with the driver’s side door open. She watches the stall-holders dismantling their tables. The tents deflating down with every pole removed. The bouncy castle has long been flattened on the grass, and the leftover treats are being devoured by the stewards.

Just beyond them, she sees six fires flickering and then being extinguished, their balloons gradually coming down. But she couldn’t feel a hint of sorrow. Not at the memories she had made. The tradition being forged even from a single visit. 

They hadn’t gone up in the balloon this year, but she had promised Jamie they would in the future. Unlike her father she was going to keep that promise. 

Alex peers up at her from the passenger seat. “You okay?”

_I’m already good._

Maggie takes it in for one last time and then slides into the driver’s seat. She starts the engine, turns on the headlights, and smiles at the steering wheel. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (This won't be the fluff fest that chapter 1 was.)

Unserviced breaks creak as the cruiser rolls to a stop at the empty intersection. Not another headlight beam in sight. 

Steam swirls up as the heat from the engine meets the frigid air. Maggie’s leg bounces below the steering wheel. A salt truck rumbles by, crossing her path, preparing the road for the first snow of the season. The wipers spring to life with a flick of the knob, scraping across the windshield. She winces at the pitch of it. They won’t do much against the fat flakes beginning to drift down. 

Gotham City was rarely quiet. An early lesson with the GCPD was that if you can hear the sound of your car engine instead of riotous violence, that was when the worst was going to happen. Crime never stopped, not in Gotham, but on quiet nights it was kept to the shadows. Gang violence would be handled internally; robberies would be committed, but never called in; and too often, one of Batman’s Rogues would be plotting.

Nights like this, when not even a report of a vehicle collision crackles across her radio, are a bad omen. With each squeak of the wipers, the dread in the pit of her stomach grows.

The traffic light flickers, in need of repair, but the red light persists— the bright neon splashing against the dark greys of the city block. They’re only a few minutes from the station, but maybe one more loop around the city would help settle her. 

Her sergeant sighs in the seat beside her. “C’mon, Sawyer, let’s call it for now and head back home.”

Her hands grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles as white as the snow. “You don’t wanna stop somewhere and grab something first?”

Turn left. They could idle in the parking lot of the nearest Big Belly Burger. 

Turn right. Head into the 24-hour convenience store. Joke about getting some dodgy, discount sushi. 

Either way would take her away from the straight line to the station. 

“Nah, not hungry.” The seat creaks as he shifts around. “You want something?”

She glances in the rearview mirror, only seeing the shine of her own eyes beneath her cap. Then she glances across at where the neon city lights cut a slit across his face. 

She’s too sick to be hungry.

“No, boss.”

The lights change. 

The car moves forward.

When they arrive at the station, the dread in Maggie’s stomach finds its grounding in the atmosphere they enter. Most of the night shift is gathered together in a bunch, whispering, sneaking glances at the booking desk. 

“Oh, Christ,” Maggie’s sergeant hisses beside her. 

There at the booking desk, having his fingerprints taken, is a high-ranking member of the Burnley Bulldogs, the back of his denim vest emblazoned with the gang’s symbol: a snarling mutt.

Usually GCPD headquarters is chaotic, hustling and bustling, but people tapping at their computer keyboards sound too loud tonight. There are detectives from other divisions peering down over the balcony— she thinks she spots Cavallo and Wise from Major Case— watching, waiting for something. Some are crouched down, their eyes white through the wooden slants, spectators in a twisted game of sport.

Downstairs there are eight individual holding cells labelled A1-8. The ninth - Holding Cell B - is a communal cell at the back of the bullpen. It serves as the drunk tank, and by this time on any other night it would be thriving with men and women needing to cool off and sober up. 

Tonight, it doesn’t hold a single soul. It’s empty. 

There’s something wrong.

“B.” The booking officer waves in the direction of the communal cell. 

Cops jump out of the way as the Bulldogs member is goose stepped into the communal cell, the creak and clank of the metal bars almost deafening. With a grunt, he takes a seat on the narrow steel bench at the rear.

The Bulldogs started as a street gang, responsible mostly for dog fights and robberies, but they’ve been on the rise as of late, moving drugs more openly. Their activities are more brazen.

Maggie glances at her partner. Neither of them have moved from the spot since they entered the station. “Jacobs, I don’t feel good about-”

Her sergeant squeezes her shoulder, warning her. “Not another word, Sawyer,” he spits. 

He weaves her through the bullpen to their regular desks, planting her in her chair. He rounds to his own, taking off his cap and smoothing a hand over his mouth. She can sense his unease, glancing up to the gallery where detectives still peer down. 

_ Vultures _ , she thinks. 

She takes off her cap and smooths back the rebellious strands of hair from her ponytail. She tries to concentrate on recording her report from the uneventful patrol, but can’t help but notice when the booking officer goes off for a break. 

Within the next 15 minutes, three men are marched in through the bullpen entrance and sat down on the stone bench outside the cell. 

Maggie looks at Jacobs, watching the three men. They are unmistakable — the tattoos on their forearms mark them as enforcers of the Italian Mob. The same mob that rules the East End with an iron fist: the Galante family.

The same mob that pays off the cops in this precinct.

When the booking sergeant comes back, he announces there isn’t any room downstairs, so they’ll have to share Cell B.

Maggie’s heart leaps to her throat. As dangerous as the Bulldog may be on the streets, he’s like prey in a cage now, waiting for the predator to be let in.

This is a terrible idea— an awful idea— and no one is intervening. No one seems surprised. 

These men weren’t in custody before tonight. She would have known. This is deliberate. 

Arranged.

“Jacobs, we can’t-” She moves to stand, but her sergeant grips her wrist.

“Sit down, Sawyer.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. “You’ll get yourself thrown in there, too.”

She knows he’s looking out for her. He’s the one who taught her all about this— the naive girl from Nebraska who thought she’d seen the ugliest part of humanity when her parents threw her out, and yet hadn’t been prepared for what she had seen in Gotham.

Yet now, she can’t help but feel betrayed by him, not standing up to say or do anything to stop this. 

The two warring factions stare each other down from across the cell, daring the other to make the first move. The three hulking men unzip their tracksuits, ready for a scrap, but the lone Burnley Bulldog refuses to submit, scowling like his namesake and frothing at the mouth in defiance.

The first blows are verbal— insults hurled across the cell. Threats to friends, family members,  _ mothers. _ The cop guarding the holding cell makes a show of banging his baton against the bars to quiet them down, but he soon disappears. It’s a formality, like the announcer before a boxing match. 

She stares down at her unfinished report, the words swimming in front of her. The jeering from the nearby cell brews, increasing in volume and vulgarity, rattling against her skull like the guard’s baton.

But then it stops. 

It stops and for just a moment, Maggie thinks that perhaps her instincts were wrong. Perhaps she had just been keyed up all night, expecting the worst on a hunch. 

No. Quiet never lasts in Gotham. It’s a precursor, an appetizer to mayhem. In an instant, violence erupts, the three men rounding on the Bulldog without warning. For a few minutes, it seems like he’s holding his own, fists flying as he ducks and weaves, more used to street fights than the heavies from the mob are. 

The cops are sluggish to respond, confirming Maggie’s suspicions that they expected this, but the door key is on the guard’s belt. He’s nowhere to be found.

And as the tide turns, as the Bulldog gets beat down, head meeting the floor with a sickening crunch, all they can do is watch. The cops are all shouting— not to stop it— but wolves baying for blood, their wild eyes eager for more.

Maggie shoots out of her seat without thinking, reaching for her weapon on instinct to fire off a warning shot, but Jacobs gets a hand twisted in the back of her uniform and yanks her back, hissing in her ear, “I’m telling you, Sawyer, it’s your funeral if you even try.”

She drops her hand, palm sweating, and rushes out the door and into the snow. She has to get away from the scene, away from that god-awful noise— the sound of bone cracking, of flesh being bruised and bloodied. 

Maybe when Internal Affairs investigates, they’ll ask her why she turned and left, but she can’t think about that now. She just presses herself to the grimey red brick at the side of the precinct and then is violently sick by her boots. The snow comes up to her ankles now; as she tumbles over, her hands and knees sink into it with a crunch. She heaves, but there’s nothing left in her. She shivers, her once freshly pressed duty slacks freezing wet. 

“I get it kid.” Her sergeant is beside her once more, squatting down beside her, a steady hand on her back. “But you need to keep your head down, work to get a detective’s badge. Then you’ll have some leverage.” His voice is laced with regret. “Trust me, you can’t do anything as a single rookie. Not here.”

A detective’s badge. That would stop this next time. Power, authority. 

She could stop it.

~

She traces the blocky shapes of the city’s insignia on her shield as she gazes out the window. 

Her detective badge had indeed opened doors, but not in Gotham. The minute she passed her exam, she traded in her GCPD badge for another, packing up what little she owned and trekking across the country to greener pastures.

National City: a beacon of hope on the west coast. 

It had seemed like a golden city of opportunity— a place where no matter your country or planet of origin, you could pursue your dreams. And it had been for her. 

She’d been charmed by the weather, the friendly faces, and the proximity of the beach. She’d quickly made a name for herself at the NCPD, solving an 18-year-old cold case, before being transferred to the Science Division. 

There she felt like she could make a difference, but she quickly learned that no matter how beautiful it looked in the daytime, how brightly the skyscrapers gleamed in the sun, the city had a seedy underbelly. Gotham was well-known for its crime-ridden streets, but National City’s sins were hidden underneath that shining veneer. 

The room grows dark as a cloud drifts in front of the sun. It’s days like today that she misses seeing Kara whizzing around the skies. Her sister-in-law is taking it easy nowadays, but the presence of National City’s resident Superhero always inspired the citizens to aim higher. 

“Serg- Uh, Lieutenant?”

The cloud passes, the sun warming the room once more. 

There’s a knock on the door and she turns from the window, pulled from her musing. “Lieutenant Sawyer?” 

She blinks, not used to the name. “Yes?”

One of her rookie officers waits patiently in front of the door, peeking through the half-opened blinds for permission to enter. He’s a good kid, pulled from one of the nearby colleges specifically for the Science Division. She waves him in. 

“Courier left this for you at the front desk, Lieutenant,” he says, placing a box on the desk. It’s wrapped in brightly coloured patterned paper bearing the El Coat of Arms.

“Thank you, Officer Ramos.”

He salutes as he leaves and she sinks into her chair. The gift sitting on her desk is the second surprise she’d gotten today. The first had been her new office. It’s prior occupant, Lieutenant Jones, had been suspended for comments he had made about an ongoing investigation and Maggie’s own Lieutenant had been moved from the Science Division to take over his position.

She picks up the single photograph on her desk, running her thumb along the handmade macaroni frame. She had been scheduled for time-off today to spend her birthday with Alex and Jamie, but once Maggie’s Captain had decided to promote her to the newly vacated position of Lieutenant of the Science Division, she’d been called in for a few hours.

Too many of her fellow officers were at the courthouse now, either as witnesses or as defendants in the trial of the year. They couldn’t afford to be short-handed.

The courthouse. She shakes her head. 

The case was both straightforward and impossible to comprehend. The official police report filed by three NCPD officers had detailed a simple traffic stop for a moving violation. They had testified that the alien in question had lunged at them and they didn’t know if the species was dangerous, so they reacted in self defense, resulting in a death. 

They hadn’t counted on a bystander filming the incident with a cell phone camera. The day that the footage came out, there had been a reckoning. Not only did the officers pull the alien out of their vehicle, they proceeded to beat him to death, laughing all the while. 

Clear as day: this was brutality. 

It cleaved the precinct in half, those with unwavering loyalty and those with unwavering integrity. 

Turning back to the gift, Maggie plucks the envelope off of the side. She pulls the card out and sure enough, it’s from Kara. She rolls her eyes at the pun:  _ Hope you have an otter-ly amazing birthday! _

She glances up at the flat screen mounted to the wall. The courthouse, grim and looming despite the sunshine. 

She has been watching the news coverage from there all morning, flicking between channels, between journalists salivating over speculations and scoops. Kara has been serving as a broadcast correspondent for CatCo, so it’s sweet that she had taken the time to arrange this delivery. 

Birthdays always mean a lot to Kara, it’s one of the many things Maggie has had the fortune to learn about her sister-in-law over the years. 

Maggie peels back the wrapping paper and lifts the lid of the box to reveal a carved gemstone charm— similar to the matching set on the bracelets that she and Alex received from Kara after taking Jamie in.

The note tucked underneath the gemstone identifies it as a Kryptonian talisman of motherhood, but also mentorship. It’s a heartwarming gesture, symbolic of their relationship. They’ve grown closer as Jamie has grown up, and now that Kara is expecting her own child, she and Maggie talk frequently about expectations and fears.

She pulls her phone from her pocket, dialing the number she has long since memorized.

Kara picks up after one ring.  _ “Happy birthday!” _

Maggie smiles at the chipper greeting. “Thanks. And thank you for the gift.”

_ “No problem.”  _

“How’s everything there?” She leans back in the desk chair, shifting her phone from one ear to the other. She picks up the remote and flicks to CatCo, but the feed has momentarily left the courthouse for advertisers. 

_ “Eh, busy. Everyone’s tense, waiting. You?” _

“Tense, waiting,” she echoes, glancing back through the glass windows of her office at the floor. A group of detectives crowd around another television, brows furrowed. 

_ “What do you think the judgement will be?”  _ Kara asks. 

“Will be or should be?” Maggie rubs at her temples with her free hand. “I don’t know.”

There’s a flurry of activity from the other end of the phone, some muffled shouting, then Kara says, _ “Hey, I’ve gotta go. But happy birthday again, and enjoy this afternoon whatever happens!” _

“Thanks Kara.”

She spends the rest of the morning moving the contents of her desk in the bullpen to her new office. Luckily, by the time lunch rolls around, enough officers have been called in to relieve her so that she may enjoy what’s left of her birthday. 

She shoulders her bag and trudges through the precinct, aware of the growing tension. Half of the officers are very firmly in support of their fellow cops, regardless of the circumstance, and others want some accountability. This division in the ranks leaves her with a heavy heart. She firmly believes in the camaraderie of the police force, but it should never get in the way of their duty to their community. To the people they’re sworn to protect. 

The day the footage went viral, she knew Jamie would see it on her smartphone. She’d gotten one as her tenth birthday present, and as a parent Maggie was still trying to negotiate how much privacy she should have with it. 

Nevertheless, with the boundaries still blurred, she knew the possibility that Jamie would see graphic content of the cops beating the alien victim to death was very real, and she had a responsibility not to defend the NCPD but to talk out the horror of the footage. 

She and Alex calmly took any questions Jamie had, ensuring that she trusted them still with their jobs and that her distress was minimal. 

Maggie waits on the elevator beside Detective Fuson, who initially smiles at her until he spots something in the distance. She looks around to see Officer Walker and Allen coming towards them, and by the time she turns back to Fuson, he’s already turned on his heels in disgust. 

She grips the shoulder strap of her bag. This crime had looked bad for the NCPD, but the attempt at a cover up made it worse. 

And it had happened right under her nose. 

They weren’t her detectives— not Science Division— but she still had to deal with the reporters crowding the steps of the precinct day in and day out as the cops were being questioned. That bile rises up, just like it had that winter night, when that Burnley Bulldog had been attacked in a GCPD cell. She hadn’t stood up then. She hadn’t said a word in his defense. She’d run outside like a coward and in that, she was complicit. 

Internal Affairs had sniffed around and she had fallen right into step with the rest of them. 

When she was a rookie, she’d had big plans for the changes she would implement when she had power. Her move to the Science Division had been her chance. She had hoped that by making contacts in the alien community and talking to the people she was supposed to protect, she could bridge the gap between the human and alien inhabitants of the city; but though they had taken great strides towards getting prejudices off the force and making a better police service, anti-alien sentiments remained. 

The problem ran deeper than corruption in the NCPD. It was a scourge on society as a whole: from the everyday person on the street all the way up to the judges and the mayor. These days, she can’t walk home from a date with Alex at the alien bar without passing anti-alien graffiti or posters for pro-only-human presidential candidates. 

She could provide her squad with training, with education, but even with all that, three men in uniform with evil intent could topple the bridge she’d been building.

She opens the heavy precinct door, squinting as she emerges into the daylight. There’s no snow here, not like Gotham. Instead the sun beats down onto the concrete and she still fights the urge to vomit onto her boots.

Thankfully, there are no reporters jockeying for her attention, no one wanting a sound byte from a Science Division Detective. Just her wife waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Happy birthday,” Alex says, greeting her with a kiss. She pulls a slip of fabric from behind her back, swinging it in question.

Maggie laughs, allowing herself to be blindfolded. She forgets about the trial, the corruption, the inherent problems with society, and focuses on the one person that can always ground her. “Really?”

She doesn’t need to see Alex to know that she’s grinning. “Really. No guessing.”

Clumsily, Alex guides her down the sidewalk and into a car. They drive for about thirty minutes, far enough that Maggie can’t place their destination, so she lets herself relax into the warm seat, listening as Alex hums along to the radio. 

When the car pulls to a stop, the engine rumbles away into the solitary sound of their breathing. They must, therefore, be outside the city. 

The door opens and familiar hands coax her back out into the sunshine. They shuffle through the grass, hand in hand, and Maggie figures that they must not be in the desert. 

Finally, Alex stops them and takes the blindfold off. She blinks rapidly, the sun blinding her for a moment. When her vision settles, she sees it sitting in the clearing in a splendour of blue, red and yellow— a hot air balloon.

She gapes, turning back to Alex with shock and surprise. “You didn’t.”

“I did. You’ve never actually been  _ up _ so…” Alex stuffs her hands in her pockets, shrugging her shoulders. “Coming?”

The pilot greets them, checks their ID and booking, and then helps them clamber into the basket. He talks them through health and safety, explaining the entire process of the balloon going up. But with the mighty puff of air and the release of the ties holding them down Maggie is a child in Nebraska, looking up in wonder at the balloons and wanting so badly to go up. 

As they lift off the ground, Alex squeezes her hand. The breeze goes through their hair and that feeling of being weightless, being free, is finally there for her. She always imagined this as a child, watching the balloons of the festival becoming tiny specks in the sky. Now she watches their car, the highway, and National City grow smaller as they rise. 

She sees concrete skyscrapers, the grassy valleys, the ocean and the desert off in the distance. The balloon climbs and as it loses its weight, so does she, her stress melting away. She turns to see Alex, squinting in the sun, smiling all the while. 

Alex would never cease to amaze her. 

Travelling on an airplane or - God forbid- in Kara’s grasp, flying has never been as timeless as this. Drifting, no cares in their world. 

But all good things come to an end. 

After an hour of exhilaration, the basket comes to rest in the grass, back down to Earth. 

The dusty pinks and purples of sunset wash over the horizon, the hint of stars just visible where the sky is darkest. Her phone hasn’t left her pocket since they arrived, but she removes it now, intent on capturing this moment in time. Now that she has experienced it, she never wants to forget that splendor. 

Squinting at her phone, she notices that the world hadn’t ceased to spin when they were floating above. Her inbox is filled with emails and messages and missed calls all reporting the same thing: the verdict is in.

Not guilty. 

Her thumb hovers over her screen, the intent to open her camera lost in the swamp that engulfs her mind at those two words. 

Not. 

Guilty. 

The weight that had been lifted crashes back around her shoulders, her hopes for justice dashed. Even a video showing the whole grisly scene wasn’t enough to overcome the prejudices of the larger population of National City.

The hike back to the car feels more like slogging through quicksand. Each notification, each news story, burying her deeper. Piling on more stress.

Alex reaches for the ignition, fingers stilling when she catches the change in Maggie. “Hey, you okay?” 

She throws her phone into her lap in disgust. “They got off.”

Got away with murder, more like. At best, those officers will get a slap on the wrist— a formality, just for show— then they’d be back to work within a week. 

Alex’s hand curls away from the air where it had hovered. She stares out into the clearing, at where the pilot deflates the balloon. They watch the red, blue, yellow fade away in the dusk, the colours losing their vibrance with the dying of the light. Eventually, she starts the engine. 

She doesn’t hum to the radio on the drive home. 

The drive back to the suburbs feels longer than their journey to the balloon. Her vision had been obscured by the blindfold and so had her troubles, but there’s no barrier now. From her lap, the incessant buzzing of her phone signals each new internal memo received, each request for comment by the media.

Tomorrow, she’ll have to face the endless stream of reporters, the calls for retribution. She’ll take the reigns of the Science Division, go out into the community, and double her efforts to ensure that the alien population of National City knows they have at least one squad on their side.

She presses the power button on the side, holding it down until the screen goes black. 

She doesn’t want to be Lieutenant Sawyer right now. She just wants to be Maggie Sawyer-Danvers. She wants to kiss her wife, hug her daughter, and remind herself why she joined the police in the first place.

To make a difference.

The engine dies. The headlights splash across the front of their house - their home. Then they, too, are clicked away into the darkness. 

Maggie takes a deep breath and moves for the door handle, but Alex reaches for her wrist. 

“Hey.”

She looks back at her wife through the milky blue darkness of dusk. Even in the meagre light, Alex’s eyes glisten. 

“We’re going to be okay.”

Maggie dips her chin. “Alex…”

“We-” Alex slides her hand hider, squeezing Maggie’s bicep. “Are gonna be okay.” 

She believes her. “We’re gonna be okay.” 

“Good.” Alex leans over to brush a kiss to her cheek, and then they exit the car. 

The familiar feeling of home washes over her as they step over the threshold. She kicks off her boots and places her bag on the rack by the door, shedding the last vestiges of work. Kara sits at the dining room table, hunched over her laptop, typing furiously. They share a look as Maggie passes through to the living room, but that’s only as long as Kara will allow away from her words. 

As a Kryptonian, Kara has the ability to blend in with humans, her identity kept under wraps, but Maggie knows how much that video affected her. The rhythmic clicking of laptop keys are testament to that. 

While aware of the tragedy, Jamie and Charlie seem fortunately unaware of today’s verdict and the lasting consequences of the judgement. Camped out on the couch, they each grip video game controllers and furiously press buttons of their own. 

Maggie leans down, pressing a kiss on Jamie’s head. “What, no hello to your mother?”

“Moooooom!” Jamie protests, eyes never leaving the television, “One second okay, I’m winning!”

“Fiiiiiine,” she mimics Jamie’s inflection, but there’s no real frustration there. Alex joins her as Jamie begins her last lap around the multicoloured course, slipping an arm around her waist. 

“How are you feeling?” Alex murmurs, almost lost in the beeps and whirs of the game.

Maggie leans into the contact. “I just don’t know, Alex.”

She hasn’t taken the time to fully process the decision. Part of her wants to take Alex into their bedroom, turn off all the lights, and let herself be held while she cries. But the other part wants to put off feeling anything for just a few more hours. To focus on her birthday, her wife, and her daughter. 

She watches as Jamie narrows her eyes, brow crinkling in concentration. Their daughter puts all of herself into everything she does, whether it’s schoolwork, soccer, or helping her grandmother cook. She’s so much like Alex in that way. While playing the video game, she tilts her body left and right as her character’s vehicle careens across the screen, tongue poking out as if to help hone her focus. 

Her character crosses the finish line and she throws her hands up in triumph, while beside her, Charlie groans. “That’s two to one!” she crows. 

“Nice job!” Alex holds out a hand for a high five and Jamie shifts, kneeling on the couch to drape her arms over its back. 

“Happy birthday!” she chirps, her wide grin showing off the gap where she’d lost a tooth the week prior. “You’re so old now.”

“Some day, you’ll be this old.” Maggie ruffles her hair, winking at Charlie who giggles. 

“I saw your work on the news today! They were talking about that video but then Aunt Kara said she wanted to watch cartoons so she changed the channel.”

Magige’s hand softens in Jamie’s hair and she gently strokes a few strands behind her ear. She isn’t sure what to say to that, Jamie’s eyes gleaming up full of innocence. 

She doesn’t want her daughter to hear the verdict passed down from pundits and talking heads who have their own agendas. Jamie’s view of the world is still very much black and white. She has been taught that if you commit a crime, you should be punished for it. 

When she and Alex tried to explain to Jamie the significance of the video and that the cops weren’t always the good guys, the girl couldn’t quite grasp the grey morality of it all. 

Today’s decision is one which will shake the foundation of her understanding of the justice system and the topic deserves more time and emotional energy than Maggie is capable of expending tonight.

So Maggie forces a smile, switching gears. “Say, you know what I’d love for my birthday dinner? Pizza!”

Jamie and Charlie both cheer, chanting, “Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!”

Alex swings ker keys around her forefinger. “Usual?”

Maggie glances at the occupants of the couch. “What do you think, three large vegetarians?”

Jamie scrunches up her nose, and Charlie looks embarrassed when he shakes his head. 

“No thank you, Mrs Sawyer,” he says, a dark lock of hair falling down over his forehead.

“Gross,” Jamie grumbles.

“Pepperoni it is,” Maggie concedes, “And the usual for us. Make sure to get Kara anything she wants.”

Alex grins, jinging her keys up into the air and snatching them into her palm. “You’d think my sister would grow up and stop leeching dinner out of my wallet.”

Despite it all, watching Alex shuffle out to the kitchen to bully her sister relaxes some of the tightness around Maggie’s heart. As Jamie skips off to switch out the game cartridge and settle down on the carpet, Maggie glides around and sinks into the couch. She lets her eyes close and the clacking of the keyboard, the clicking of buttons, the cheers of children soothe the stress in her stomach. 

Kara can write her words, bring power to thoughts, and children. 

They can be children for another day. 

Jamie and Charlie begin to squabble about who will play which character when Maggie feels the other end of the couch dip. She opens her eyes and sees her sister-in-law easing onto the cushions with a groan. At five months pregnant, she’s clearly showing, and despite her superpowers, she hasn’t escaped the aches and pains. 

“How do you feel?” Maggie asks, as Kara huffs out a breath. 

“About the verdict?” Kara lets her head rest on the back of the couch. “Or the tiny half-Kryptonian growing inside me?”

The pregnancy had been a surprise to everyone. Alex, normally so unflappable, had been the one most thrown by the news. Her baby sister was going to have a baby of her own and though she was thrilled to be an aunt, Alex was plagued by the implications of a half-Kryptonian child. After inventing special technology to help monitor the baby’s health and heart rate, she calmed down, but she still tends to hover. 

Kara sighs, her face troubled. Her gaze flickers to the two children a few feet away. They’re in their own world, completely oblivious to the worries of the adults sitting behind them. “What kind of world do you think they’re gonna grow up in?”

Maggie shakes her head. “I feel like no matter what we do, it’s one step forward, two steps backward.”

Kara toys with the hem of her maternity shirt. “I worry about the future. About if they get my powers and don’t know how to handle it.” Her hand comes to rest on her bump. “I only managed because of Jeremiah’s glasses, and learning to drown out all the noise on Earth.” 

“We’ll get through it, Kara.”

“I don’t want them to suffer,” Kara says quietly.

Maggie isn’t sure if she means the anti-alien violence or suffering to adjust to the world, but she puts her hand over Kara’s, who looks up in surprise. 

“You might be married, but that’s a Danvers in there,” Maggie said, “And the Danvers are badass. This one’s gonna get through anything.” 

Kara’s gaze mists, then she smiles wide and sunny. “It’s gonna get through all the diaper changes Aunt Maggie is gonna have to do.”

Maggie groans and pulls her hand away, and they stay like that for a moment. Basking in a silly joke and watching two children enjoy a video game. For that moment, the world seems bright again. A new baby, endless possibilities. 

In the next few days, Maggie is going to have to take decisive action. Even with more power in her department, she is more aware of the consequences for each path. Her sergeant’s voice echoes.

_ “I’m telling you, Sawyer, it’s your funeral if you even try.” _

Except now, it isn’t just her life that she’s risking. She has Alex and Jamie to consider. Kara and her husband and unborn child. Eliza. J’onn. A whole family that she never dared to dream about.

She fiddles with her wedding and engagement rings.  _ Lieutenant Sawyer. _ That rookie’s voice was confident with the title in a way that she wasn’t yet. 

_ Lieutenant. _

She slides her phone from her pocket, it’s face obsidian. A black mirror. If she looks into it, who looks back? Is it Lieutenant Sawyer? Or a woman who never really grew from that night in Gotham, who never took those lessons to heart?

“Alright, who wants three vegetarian pizzas?” a voice calls, the front door shutting and bringing Maggie back to the present. 

Alex sways into the living room, arms laden with pizza boxes and two paper bags swinging from her wrists. She sets the stack on the coffee table and unpacks the paper takeout bags. Kara makes a beeline straight for the stack of food, pulling an entire box onto her lap, practically inhaling the first slice. 

When Maggie reaches for a box of potstickers, Alex swats her hand away. “This isn’t for you, this is for my nephew or niece.” 

“They’re still in vivo. They don’t need it yet.”

“But mama does,” Kara mumbles through a mouthful of pizza, grabbing the box from Alex’s fingertips and digging in. 

As the Danvers sisters bicker over how to divide the rest of the food, Maggie marvels that they carry on just as they probably did as teenagers. Even Charlie and Jamie raise an eyebrow at the behaviour. They’ll probably continue to be like this until they’re old and grey. 

No matter how harsh the world outside is, they’ll always have each other. 

With several potstickers on her plate, Alex settles onto the couch next to Maggie.

“Happy birthday,” her breath ghosts against Maggie’s neck, foretelling what might happen when the guests are gone and Jamie has gone to sleep. 

Sometime after dinner, there’s a knock on the door. Charlie’s dad stands on the porch, admiring the front garden Maggie has been cultivating. 

“Hey, Maggie,” he greets when she opens the door, “This uh, it’s just a little something.”

He hands her a gift bag, the words  _ Happy Birthday  _ embossed on the side. “Thanks, Robbie.”

“I was sorry to hear about that verdict today.” He scratches the back of his head. “We’ve all seen the footage online. Doesn’t seem right.” 

It’s heartening, realising that there’s still good people out there willing to fight too. They’re not the only ones teaching their children right. Charlie will also grow up to love and respect aliens. He leaves with Charlie and Maggie heads back in to help clean. 

There’s something refreshing about the fluid way she, Alex and Kara clear the boxes, pack away the leftovers and wipe the surface of the coffee table. None of the trio speak, lost in their tasks, in the weight of the day. 

Shortly after, Kara packs away her laptop and makes her way to the door. 

“See you tomorrow night for the real party,” Alex says, squeezing her sister’s bicep and retreating to the kitchen. 

Her actual birthday is today, but the celebration will continue through to the weekend when their entire family can attend. The bowling alley would provide the perfect venue for the kids to play and the adults to enjoy a proper round of celebratory drinks. 

“Thanks again for the gift,” Maggie says, leaning in the doorway, letting the fresh night air in. 

“No problem.” Kara adjusts the shoulder strap of her laptop bag and pats her bump. “If I didn’t have this one to think about, I’d need a strong Tamaranian Sunrise.“ 

Maggie snorts. “Yeah. Think we could all use that, after this week.” 

She bids her sister in law goodbye, locks up, and turns off the lights. She ascends the stairs, feeling the effort of each step. Balloons are enviable, they climb without this effort. 

Jamie is already snuggled under her Wonder Woman duvet, making the tucking in somewhat obsolete. But it’s tradition, so Maggie sits on the edge of her bed and smoothes her daughter’s hair back. 

“I hope you had a good birthday mom,” Jamie says mid-yawn. 

“I did.”

“I had fun tonight.”

And there’s that grin, tooth missing and all. Part of the statement makes her heart ache. She hates how busy she’s been, how much extra time she’s going to have to spend at the precinct putting out fires. Her daughter never holds it against her, but will she when she’s older?

While her belated birthday celebration with wider family and friends is tomorrow night, Maggie floats forward a further idea. “How about we go away next weekend?”

Jamie’s eyes light up despite her exhaustion. “Are we going to grandma’s house?”

Maggie smiles and stands up, heading to the door. She pauses by the lightswitch. 

“Yeah. We’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Great!” She pulls the covers up to her chin and snuggles further into the warmth. “Night mom.”

The switch is flicked and the room goes dark. She turns to exit, bringing the door to a close behind her. 

“Wait!” 

Maggie turns back to the shadowy figure of her daughter. “Yes?”

“Um, can you turn the lamp on?”

The lamp. 

Alex’s lamp. 

Sometimes it feels like Jamie is growing up too fast. Officer Pickles spends more time on Jamie’s bedside table than he does tucked in bed and Maggie doesn’t remember the last time she read a bedtime story. 

The soft lights projected onto the ceiling remind her that Jamie is still her little girl. 

“Thanks mom.”

She closes the bedroom door and leans a shoulder against the frame. She tries to push away the verdict, the dread in the pit of her stomach thinking about tomorrow. She thinks about her birthday, her celebrations tomorrow. 

Finally getting to fulfil a childhood dream. Experiencing the rush of floating high up in the sky above the sand, the sea, the city. 

She taps at the door frame, wondering if her daughter will also one day fulfil all her dreams. 

When she gets to her own bedroom, Alex is sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Lock the door.”

It’s less of a request than a command and Maggie instantly obeys, her palm sweating against the metal of the doorknob. Alex stands and slowly unties the knot of her robe. As silk pools to the floor and reveals a set of lingerie not seen before, Maggie’s mouth runs dry. 

Alex beckons her closer with a crooked finger and purrs, “Happy birthday, baby.”

Maggie collects herself and saunters forward, enjoying the soft plush carpet underfoot. “And here I thought you gave me your present already.”

Alex’s mouth turns up at the edges, suppressing a smile. “Well, as nice as the balloon ride was, I wanted to make sure your other needs were met, too.”

Maggie steps right up until they’re toe to toe, then side steps Alex and sits on the bed. Her wife grins, all wolfish white teeth, and straddles her lap. “You really are going to make me do the work?”

“It’s my birthday,” Maggie drawls, trekking her fingertips up smooth muscled thighs and stopping just short of crimson lace. She hums, examining the pattern of stitches. “Expensive.”

“A gift.”

“Pity I’m not going to appreciate it too long,” Maggie teases before leaning up to kiss her wife. 

Alex had gone through quite an evolution since being the hard agent on the tarmac all those years ago. Even at the dawning of their sexual relationship, she had gotten seduction down to a fine art. Knew when to be more assertive, to be confident in showing her want for another woman in a way that she couldn’t be— never wanted to be— with a man. 

But she had also learned when to bat her eyelashes, soften her voice, breathe words so softly against Maggie’s neck that they were like warm water, getting exactly what she wanted. 

And this is another element altogether. Performative, confident, alluring. 

She gently pulls the strap of Alex’s lace bra down along the shoulder, letting it fall limp against her bicep. She retreats her fingertips around Alex’s ribs and up the cut of her shoulder blade, measured, contemplative. 

“Hey,” Alex says, lifting her chin, “You’re drifting away from me.”

Maggie huffs out a laugh, pulling Alex’s hips closer into her lap. “Maybe I’m still in that balloon.”

“Maybe.” Alex trails her attention to the buttons of Maggie’s shirt, undoing them one by one. 

But Maggie  _ is _ partly elsewhere. Alex’s seduction is a fine art, and Maggie wants her, but there is a static in the back of her mind that takes her back through the day. The highs and lows, the verdict, the frustration. 

That frustration that hasn’t abated and won’t until it’s addressed. 

But regardless of Alex pressing soft kisses to her jaw and neck, she can’t let herself be grounded in the moment. She rakes her nails down Alex’s spine, enjoying the surprised flex of her body tighter to Maggie’s front. 

Frustration. 

In a fluid moment, Maggie grips Alex’s hips and flips them over. Alex lets out a soft noise of protest at being dumped, but easily gives in to the urging against her legs and shuffles up the bed, letting Maggie crawl over her and kiss her. She makes sure to press her hips down just so that Alex drops her head back and sighs at the cool belt buckle pressing between her thighs. 

Maggie takes Alex first with her fingers, bra discarded but underwear still on, watching the pinch of Alex’s lower lip between her teeth as she fights to stay quiet against the mounting pleasure inside her. 

The second time, Maggie curls her other hand under her neck and sinks them into sinfully deep kisses, all the while moving in dizzying circles and building Alex back to that peak. 

Only then, after seeing her wife shake apart in her arms, did she let Alex finish unbuttoning her shirt and see to her own needs. Each time she would want to twitch away or naturally close her thighs, Alex was there to keep her on course, confront the surging sensations, take her to peaks which left her biting at the knuckle of her fist to keep from crying out. 

Afterwards, sleepy and satisfied, Alex’s head rests in the crook of Maggie’s neck. She presses a kiss to Maggie’s collarbone, no doubt tasting the sheen of sweat there. 

“When things cool down at work, I’m gonna take you away for a few nights. Give you a proper birthday.”

Maggie hums, her fingers tracing patterns on the back of Alex’s neck, feeling the downy hair. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. Have my way with you in a motel again.”

When Alex starts to peter out into soft snores, Maggie remembers those long nights spent at the precinct in Gotham. The break room was always empty during the graveyard shift, the other cops on duty preferring to eat at their desks, bandying crude jokes back and forth. Maggie liked the quiet— liked being able to watch reruns of cop dramas on the old television set in the corner while she heated up yesterday’s leftovers. Those cops on the screen were a stark comparison to Gotham’s boys in blue. They were always stalwart and true, facing corruption in their ranks with their chins high, instead of goading prisoners to fight or taking bribes from the mob.

Those reruns are hard for her to watch now that she isn’t a rookie. She knows now that morals and ethics can only get you so far before you become the target. There’s one episode of that procedural that sticks with her, despite that. She must have seen it ten times because she can recite the speech at the end by heart.

_ “Listen here, kid. You’ll never make it through all the shit this job throws at you if you don’t got a good wife by your side.” _

She remembers scoffing at the idea. As a rookie, she was still nursing the heartbreak of being abandoned by her family. She couldn’t bring herself to even hope that someday she’d find someone who loved her, because what if what her father said was true? What if she wasn’t worthy of love?

Alex shifts, her arm steady and warm around Maggie’s waist.

Alex Danvers helped her heal from all that trauma, and her wife and their daughter continue to shower her with love every day. 

As long as she has her family, maybe the world isn’t so bad after all.

~

Her calendar is fully loaded the next day with back to back meetings and she’s thankful she had the foresight to block off an hour in the morning for breakfast. The local coffee beans Alex buys are much more palatable than the gasoline that’s served at the precinct. 

Two slices of toast spring up from the toaster and a hand swipes them away before Maggie can put them on her own plate. The culprit isn’t even phased at being caught red-handed.

“What?” Jamie mumbles, cheeks stuffed full of dry double-toasted bread. The victory Maggie had won over Alex when Jamie decided she also liked her toast over-cooked lasted but one breakfast. Sharing a favorite food meant Maggie didn’t always get the first slice anymore. “It’s not your birthday anymore. You’re not special.”

She concedes the point, popping two more slices of bread into the machine. 

It’s her official first day as Lieutenant. She’s already dressed the part, trading in the safety of her leather jacket in favor of a more professional pantsuit; but she’s jittery, and not from the caffeine.

Catching her, Alex grips her lapels and fixes her white collar. “You’re nervous.”

“I’m not-”

“A ten year old had faster reflexes.” Alex nods to the toaster. 

Maggie fidgets with the cuffs of her blazer. “Yeah, I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

She pulls away from Alex’s comforting space and drums her fingers on the counter. “Today is a whole new challenge.”

“Every day’s a challenge, Maggie,” Alex says, lifting up her chin and glancing at Jamie running up the stairs to get ready for school, “Just like a girl falling into our lives six years ago was a challenge. Just like finding the Infernian who attacked the president was a challenge.”

Maggie pinches Alex’s hip. “Just like dealing with an asshole federal agent was a challenge.”

“Hey, you can’t be mean to me, your birthday was  _ yesterday _ .”

They both settle at the breakfast table to watch the morning news, a ritual they’d started a few weeks after moving into the house. Usually it was just background noise to their flirting over the stove or helping Jamie with some last minute homework, but today their favourite breakfast programme is covering the fallout of the verdict from the day before. 

Pundits volley different theories about where the police department will go from here, but it’s all speculation. Not even Maggie knows  _ “What’s next for the NCPD?” _ . Not yet. 

Itching, she strips off her blazer and lays it along the back of the couch. 

“You know in Gotham, something like this happened.” Over a decade later, she can almost not get it out without feeling that bile rise up in her throat. “I didn’t… do anything. I couldn’t. I was just a rookie.”

Alex stops stirring her coffee, the spoon still against the ceramic mug. Maggie misses the distracting clink of it— wants it to continue. “Well, you have more power now.”

“I have more at stake now.” 

Alex sits beside her, resting a hand on her thigh. Maggie wishes she could pull strength from it. “How bad was it?”

Her eyes slip closed as she replays the events of that night. The rhythmic scraping of the windshield wipers, the clanking of the nightstick on those bars, the sickening crunch as skull met concrete. It’s a warm California morning with the sunlight streaming into the kitchen and yet she’s there, hands and knees in the snow. 

The images stop. Rewind. Replay. But this time she sees that alien ripped out of his car and the three cops pushing him down onto the pavement. Their smug grins when they’re found innocent. The civil war in her precinct. 

“Really bad. No consequences.” She watches the pundits’ fiery debate— the way they pound their fists on the table. “Deja vu.”

“You can’t go back and fix what you didn’t do.” Alex reaches up and smooths the collar of Maggie’s button down shirt. “You can fix the present.” 

“And hope you don’t regret it in the future?”

“Sometimes we need tests of character. You weren’t ready then. You might be now.”

Maggie catches her hand, runs her thumb over the stones embedded in Alex’s wedding ring. She’d made a promise six years ago. 

“I don’t wanna put either of you at risk.”

“We’ve battled baddies before, Sawyer. We’re badass.” She winks over the brim of her coffee cup. “We can get past any challenge.”

Maggie marvels at how Alex has an easy, mature optimism now. The years have only made her stronger, more sure of herself, maybe the effect of stepping up for Kara as someone to lean on once again- 

“MOM!” Jamie shouts from upstairs. 

“What?” They both roar back, the response automatic.

“There’s no more toothpaste!”

Alex sighs. “Yes there is. It’s in the cupboard.”

There’s some scuffling, a crash, and then silence. 

Then, another shout, “I can’t reach it!”

Alex raises an eyebrow and sets her coffee down. “See? Challenges.”

Her wife heads upstairs and Maggie is filled with a new vigor. She clicks off the TV and the noise, focuses on what she knows, who she knows. She has three straight meetings with various combinations of higher ups. Then she’ll hold a division meeting to identify the issues. One day at a time. She’ll set up a strategy as Lieutenant— she isn’t an inexperienced rookie anymore. The NCPD might be threatening to split over tensions, but that means there’s a lot of good hearts still who know the wrong decision was made.

There’s going to be days of protest, maybe civil unrest against the police force. She’s going to have to be more vocal in the community than she was as a detective— not just gleaning information, but actively supporting them. 

After all, she’s going to be an aunt to a little alien baby very soon.

“Maggie!” Alex shouts from the upstairs bathroom.

“What?”

“Have you seen the spare toothpaste?”

She lifts her pressed blazer from the back of the couch and glances up at the clock on the wall. It’s a minimalist novelty one with coloured balloons decorating the face. Yesterday was her birthday. 

Yesterday was a dark day for the NCPD.

But it was also the day she fulfilled a childhood dream and got to finally experience going up in a balloon. Got to revel in the endless optimism that trip inspired within. 

When she was kicked out and didn’t get to attend the Taste of Nebraska festival, she thought she would never have a chance to lift up towards the clouds. But now the balloon festivals are  _ their _ tradition, something she can love and cherish separate from the memories of her father. Things were good once, and now they are good again. 

One step at a time, one challenge at a time— starting with this one. 

Things will be good again, she’s sure of it. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming on this hot air balloon ride with us. Your kudos, comments, and support have meant so much. Hope you enjoy!

Black and yellow. The plastic hazard tape whips in the light breeze. 

She kicks her heel into loose dirt at the edge of the crater, listening to the sprinkle of it dropping several feet into the ground. The darkness gapes in the otherwise luscious grass, cordoned off with the flimsy tape.

“The Belmont Crater,” she murmurs, staring into it. 

“Woah...” Jamie caws, drawing out the awe in her voice, “That’s huge!”

Maggie keeps a hand firmly on the girl’s shoulder. She is still short enough to easily slip under the police cordon. One over-zealous skip and she’d be tumbling into the pit.

With the exception of the crater ringed with tape, the park is bright green, well-maintained by the taxpayer’s money. It adds to the oddity of the crater’s presence— a stark reminder of how drastically one event can alter the landscape of one’s life.

Maggie hadn’t seen the wreckage of the pod, since the DEO’s rapid response team had dealt with its extraction. At the time, she was sleeping off a 16 hour shift, alone in her matchbox apartment miles away. 

The following morning, the remnants of the crash had been wiped clean. The headline splashed across the front page of the National City Tribune announced a citywide beautification plan starting with Belmont Park. Her sergeant suspected it was a coverup masking something far more  _ alien _ and one glance at the byline—  _ by Kara Danvers _ — was enough to confirm his suspicions in her opinion. 

But she hadn’t received a call from her ex. There was no offer for interdepartmental cooperation or even a text with an FYI. 

She’d been iced out. Whatever had once sat at the bottom of Belmont Crater had nothing to do with her.

_ Little did she know. _

The untrimmed grass swishes underfoot as she steers Jamie away from the crater. There’s no sense in dwelling on the past when her future is here, tugging her by the hand while they search for the perfect picnic spot. 

After an onslaught of rain had postponed their zoo trip, they’d all been itching to enjoy the outdoors; particularly Alex, who had returned to work a few days before. J’onn had ensured that the DEO ran smoothly in her absence, but she had a mountain of paperwork awaiting her. Even on this sunny Saturday afternoon, she had a few orders to sign before grabbing lunch and meeting her family at the park. 

Belmont Park bustles with activity, as if the entire population of National City had the same idea to go enjoy the outdoors. Eventually, Maggie finds an open spot to spread their picnic blanket. She shoots off a text to Alex notifying her of their location and unfurls the blanket that had been tucked into her new day bag. 

She roots through empty fruit snack packages and stray crayons to find the bottle of sunscreen she’d taken from Alex’s bathroom. Jamie wrinkles her nose as Maggie smears a glob of the stuff across her cheeks. 

“Ew,” Jamie complains, “It smells gross.”

“It’s gross but you don’t want to try getting burned without it.” Despite her warning, Maggie cringes at the stickiness of the sunscreen residue on her fingers.

Alex and Kara’s figures emerge beyond the treeline past Jamie’s shoulder, arms laden with chips and sandwiches from the nearby deli. They’ve stalled a little ways away from the picnic blanket and judging by the hushed tones and the furrow in Kara’s brow, they’re in serious discussions. They’re just far enough that the actual words are lost to the wind, but she can almost read Alex’s lips if she strains. 

Ever perceptive, Alex catches her staring. She swirls her fingertips around the edge of her coffee cup, eyeing Maggie even as the conversation with her sister carries on. While much of Alex’s caution had ebbed after the museum, Maggie gets the sense that today is a test. One she is determined not to fail. 

“I’m so hungry,” Jamie whines, flopping back onto the blanket. Alex and Kara have only been gone a short while, but to a hungry child, each second stretches to an eternity. 

“I know, they’ll be back soon,” Maggie soothes, patting her on the knee. Jamie can’t see it, but her lunch is inching nearer.

Kara is visibly objecting whatever topic they had been discussing, but Alex seems to hold firm in the position for which she had been advocating, the tension palpable even from a distance. After a moment, Kara relents with a sharp nod and they continue their journey across the park.

Alex settles on Jamie’s other side, handing Maggie the plastic coffee cup before she digs into the bag of sandwiches.

“I laid off on the syrup,” she says, passing a kid’s sized turkey and cheese to an eager Jamie. 

“Thanks.”

The brew tastes slightly of cardamom, warm and inviting, reminding her of early mornings in their shared apartment and late nights at the DEO. They’d used to joke about how she liked her coffee sweet in the morning and “rougher” later on— like some other preferences— but the first time Alex had learned this was when they were running cases together. 

She’d gotten the call about a crime scene while they were both in bed, back when things were new and routines were being established. They’d met on crime scenes before, but never arrived together, and the coffee they’d gotten along the way had settled their nerves at being seen both sliding out of Maggie’s cruiser. 

The last sandwich in the bag is hers. She unwraps the paper, savoring the first bite. Italian on toasted bread, another usual order that hadn’t been forgotten. 

Across the blanket, another sandwich remains virtually untouched. Stuffed with extra ham and twice the size of anyone else’s, it could only be Kara’s. Maggie hasn’t seen her since the ‘Resort World T-shirt’ incident. They’d left things on a friendly note, she’d thought, but perhaps her presence at a Danvers family picnic isn’t as welcome as Alex had made her believe. 

“How’s work?” she asks.. 

“It’s okay.” Kara hums, picking at a stray onion. She isn’t shovelling food in her face like usual. Whatever she and Alex had been arguing about hasn’t been completely resolved. She fixes the angle of her sandwich in its wrapper, as if it wasn’t properly settled. “I’m looking into a story about a company discriminating against its alien employees.”

Maggie knows from friends and informants how hard it is to get work permits for Earth. Newcomers desperate to make their way on a new planet make easy prey for blackmail. She slides her attention to Alex, whose features remain tight and measured. Resolute.

She clears her throat. “There’s a few legislators who are trying to push for change, You got that far in your search yet?”

“No, not yet.”

Alex looks at Jamie now, face unreadable. Maggie swallows a mouthful of coffee, then, “Well, if you do and you want me to put you in touch with someone, let me know.” 

Kara chews her sandwich, likely considering her response. As the moment stretches, the awkwardness grows. The rustles of the treeline, the laughter of families around the park, the barking of dogs all answer her instead. 

Alex finally fixes her stare on her sister, as if prompting her to be nice. It doesn’t surprise Maggie; while she’s been making strides with Alex, Kara remains a puzzle.

_ Had it been her that they were arguing about before? _

“That would be really helpful, actually,” Kara finally replies, just before her phone sings with an incoming call. She slips it from her pocket. “Speaking of CatCo…”

She brushes her knees off and heads off to take the call, abandoning her sandwich askew on its wrapper.

Maggie leans back on the blanket, stretching her legs out. In the distance, Kara paces through the trees with her phone to her ear, pushing her glasses up on her nose as she frowns. She glances at Jamie, who sways to a song only she can hear.

_ Kids _ , she muses. 

She glances at Alex, whose attention has followed her sister into the tree line. “Sometimes I feel like she is going to laser me into dust,” she says, “One day she just might.” 

Alex snorts, “That’ll never happen.”

“Sure?” 

“You’ve got insurance.” 

With that, she tips the rest of her coffee into her mouth. Maggie has missed her dry wit, but the statement is a strange one. Insurance?

“I’m bored,” Jamie singsongs, distracting her from further exploring the implications. The girl has abandoned the crusts of her sandwich, flopping back onto the blanket with a huff. For a moment Maggie wonders if there’s a tantrum on the horizon, but the threat dissipates when she catches a shrill whistle coming from across the park.

As if called by it, Jamie leaps up and scurries over to a wire fence running along the tree line. On the other side, two teams in coloured jerseys troop out onto the adjacent green. Maggie watches small hands grip the wire fence, transfixed as two team captains shake hands. 

Black and white ball, kneesocks, a stack of water bottles and a neat row of anxious parents. Her own interest is piqued as familiarity rushes back from those college seasons long ago. 

A coin is flipped and the players scatter, taking their places on the field, one side wearing striped jerseys, yellow and black like hornets, and the other proudly displaying the colours of National City High School. Maggie recognizes them from the last time she gave a safety lecture. The parents lining the other side of the pitch sway, drunk with stereotypical over-competitiveness.

She rises and strolls over beside Jamie, whose hands still grip the metal links of the fence. The whistle blows and the game kicks off. 

“Woah.” She cranes her neck for a better view, entirely focused on the figures darting across the field passing a ball back and forth. “What game are they playing?”

Maggie kneels by her side, not caring that her jeans will soon be grass stained and muddy. “Soccer.”

Jamie mouths the word, committing it to memory, enthralled as the two teams battle. With each near miss, she gasps, and finally, when National City High School scores, she’s rejoicing right along with them, bouncing on her toes with excitement.

Sensing movement behind her, Maggie turns to see Alex approach with a wry smile. 

“Uh oh,” she laments, slipping hands into the back pockets of her jeans. 

“What?”

“I can see our future.”

Maggie stifles a laugh as Alex gestures to Jamie’s whole-hearted fascination and then to the soccer moms on the other side of the pitch. With the idea of being a mother still so new, she hasn’t put much thought into the idea that she’d be attending parent-teacher nights and soccer games, handing out orange slices at half-time. Maybe even donning the team colours to coach a squadron of players. 

That might come sooner rather than later, she thinks. 

The rhythmic sound of cleat meeting synthetic leather takes her back to her days spent lobbing balls into the box. Early morning conditioning on the pitch, her coach giving rousing pep talks in the locker room, the thrill as the whistle sounded and the ball sailed through the air. She was lauded for her quick footwork as left wing, once earning herself an award for most assists in a season.

Maggie leans over to her daughter. “You know,” she drawls, “I used to play soccer in college.”

Jamie’s head whips back to her. “Really?”

“Yeah.” 

“Can you teach me to play?” Jamie excitedly glances between her and the ongoing match, “Please, please, please?”

Her daughter’s eyes shine with fascination, and while she may be rusty, she has an idea.

When she and Alex were together, they made a point to volunteer each month at the LGBTQ youth shelter downtown. Alex would tutor math and science while Maggie provided a kind ear for kids who weren’t as lucky as she was to have had an aunt to take them in. Even after the breakup, she continued to show up, sometimes armed with books, other times with a soccer ball. 

She motions to Alex to keep an eye on Jamie and darts to the parking lot. Sure enough, the ball she’d brought to the youth center is sitting in the trunk of her car. She thumps it, satisfied that it has retained its shape and sturdiness.

When she returns to the fence, Kara has joined them. She’s back to munching on a bag of chips, albeit halfheartedly. 

She pulls the ball from behind her back and presents it to Jamie. “Want to give it a try?”

Jamie’s eyes light up and she tugs Alex past the gate and onto an empty patch of the field. “C’mon mom, you can be on my team!”

The pair sets about creating a makeshift goal from Alex’s jacket and a half empty bottle of soda; but the cloud that has hung over Kara since her argument with her sister persists.

Maggie bumps her elbow. “Can Supergirl play goal?”

The jury is out on Supergirl, but Kara Danvers has had some experience on the pitch. She blocks every shot Alex attempts and Maggie has a brief image of the two, much younger, running around Eliza’s yard in Midvale. 

Maggie isn’t positive, but she suspects that Kara might be using just a bit of her ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound to win. Kara might be a superhero, but she’s been known to cheat at game night. Why would soccer be any different?

When Alex passes the ball to Jamie, Kara’s goalkeeping tactics shift. Jamie lines up a shot within arms reach, but rather than blocking it, Kara dives dramatically at the ground, missing the save by mere inches. 

When she brushes herself off, her glasses are wonky and she’s covered in grass stains, but she’s finally smiling. She jogs over to her purse to store her black frames, before returning to the goal, ready to begin again.

Jamie hops around the field, crowing, “Did you see, mom? Did you see?”

Alex lifts her up, laughing, “The best scorer in National City!”

The girl laps up the praise, but the minute she spots the ball in Kara’s hands, she’s wriggling her way out of her mother’s grasp. She’s a natural with a soccer ball, quickly grasping how to bounce it on her knee after watching her aunt perform the trick once. 

She passes the ball back to Alex, who takes off towards the goal, Jamie cheering all the while. In a last ditch attempt to keep Team Alex and Jamie from scoring again, Maggie tries to tackle her, forgetting that Alex’s right side is weaker from prior injuries. 

She stumbles and Maggie’s hands dart out to circle her waist, keeping her upright, their legs splayed slightly for balance. “Woah, sorry.”

Alex’s hands rest on Maggie’s biceps. She’s breathless, winded from sport and their near tumble. “Damn, you are competitive.”

They’re frozen in each others’ arms and for a moment, Maggie imagines a world where she could take Alex’s face between her palms and kiss her soundly— right there on the soccer pitch in front of their family. But the spell is broken as the ball whizzes by, hitting Maggie square in the shoulder. 

They both jump back to find Jamie giggling and Kara standing with her arms crossed. 

“You guys stopped playing.” It’s more of a tease than a question, lacking the bite Maggie had expected. She seems a little amused, maybe for Jamie’s sake, or maybe just because she lost herself in the game. 

Alex glares at her sister as she jogs over to retrieve the ball, tossing it over. They resume play; but even though Jamie had been captivated, she’s quickly overcome by a yawn. She leaves their makeshift field to wander over and sit by the fence as the whistle blows on the second half of the high school game. 

Even the most exciting match can’t overcome a five year old’s need for an afternoon nap. 

Kara bounces the ball onto her foot, flicks it into the air and then catches it. She tucks it under her elbow as the trio watch Jamie plop onto the grass. “I think someone’s tired.”

Maggie picks up the empty soda bottle and hands Alex her jacket. She looks over at her daughter, whose eyelids are drooping, even as she’s trying to peer through the fence to watch as the two teams march off the field. “I don’t think she’ll make it through to extra time.”

The three of them share a laugh and Maggie can see the lightness in Kara’s expression as she cleans off her glasses before putting them on again. The levity of the afternoon has cleared away any remaining tension. 

“Oh hey.” Maggie lowers her voice, tapping her finger on the bridge of her nose. “She didn’t recognise you.”

Kara and Alex gape at each other, dumbstruck. 

“I took them off for the game.” Kara blinks, fingers brushing the frames. She stutters, as if she hadn’t realized she’d even removed them, “I-”

“The day she finds out,” Maggie says, smug, “She’s gonna raise hell.” 

Alex makes a little noise that’s somehow both alarmed and amused, shaking her head. “Let’s hope the day doesn’t come any time soon.”

“Seems I’m not as rusty as I thought.” Maggie says to Alex as they gather up their sandwich wrappers to bring to the nearby bin. “Even if defence isn’t my usual spot.”

Alex quirks an eyebrow. “You told me you only played soccer to get girls.”

Maggie shrugs a shoulder, giving Alex a half smile. Teasing her had always come so easily, but she’s been careful to toe the line since their lives crashed back together. One wrong step could send them hurtling back to square one. Moments like the museum outing and their soccer game have given her the confidence to push a little more, but healing the ties between them would require a soft touch.

Kara shuffles back over to Jamie, leaving Maggie and Alex to the rest of the cleanup. She crosses her legs, sitting down next to the girl with a sunny smile.

Maggie folds up the picnic blanket, tucking it under her arm as they start the short trek to return the soccer ball and rest of their gear back to their cars. “She’s a really great aunt.”

Alex hums in agreement as they fall into step. Her SUV is parked right next to Maggie’s cruiser, the blacked-out windows hiding the car seat from view. With a click, the trunk opens and where there was once a cache of weapons lies a pile of soft toys and some stray Goldfish crackers. Alex takes the blanket from Maggie, sliding it under the back seat before shutting the trunk. 

When she turns back, her lips are pursed. “I don’t know how much you heard earlier but…”

Maggie considers the soccer ball in her hands, examining the stitching. “I try not to eavesdrop. It’s not my business.” 

“Thanks um,” Alex stutters, palming nervously at her hips, “Except this is.” 

“Oh?”

“I told Kara if anything happened to us, I wanted her to take Jamie in.” Her eyes dart to where their daughter is sitting, then back to Maggie. “I just- I mean is that alright with you? Or do you have someone else you’d rather…?”

She trails off, leaving the question open. 

Maggie doesn’t have any blood relatives left— not any that would give her the time of day. Her aunt had died of cancer just a year before Maggie had moved to National City. 

She’d seemed like such an adult to a scared fourteen year old girl, but now when Maggie looks back on that shoebox apartment in Omaha, Nebraska, she realizes just how young her aunt was. A single twenty-something juggling college and a full-time job, she hadn’t expected to suddenly become a parent, but she’d risen to the challenge. She’d been the one who pushed Maggie to succeed— to make her dreams of becoming a detective and leaving Nebraska behind a reality. 

The parallel isn’t lost on Maggie.

Kara would do the same for her niece— for Alex’s daughter— if the time came.

In the aftermath of Alex’s kidnapping, Kara had quietly admitted that if Alex had died, she would have lost her anchor to Earth. But now, she has Jamie, another reason to keep living.

“No, that’s the right choice,” she says, abating Alex’s nerves, “I just hope we don’t get taken out at once. No child should have to live with that.”

Alex dips her head to the pavement, pain washing over her face. They’ve both lost parents— not by their own choice— and they’d both had close calls themselves.

Maggie absentmindedly rubs the spot where Cyborg Superman’s laser had burned through her shoulder. It hadn’t been a fatal wound, but the near brush with death had been enough to force her to confront her fear of getting her heart broken. It’s scarred over now, but the memory of that night burns fresh in her mind, as do all the nights that followed. 

The first time they made love, Alex had been so gentle, touching the scar with such reverence. She wonders if they’ll ever get back to that place— sweaty and tangled up with each other in bed like nothing else in the world matters. What would it take for them to heal now?

Kara wanders over, Jamie sound asleep on her shoulder. “I saw her eyelids slipping, counted to ten and this one was out.”

Maggie takes the girl carefully from her aunt and buckles her safely into her carseat. Tiny arms wrap around a stuffed otter. “Just to ten, huh?” 

Kara snaps her fingers. “Like magic.”

Alex shakes her head, bemused. “If only every time was that simple.”

~

Count to ten. 

Breathe deeply. 

It’s the only way to deal with two people about to lose their temper.

“Please, you  _ know _ I have to play!”

“Jamie, I said no. I told you weeks ago this weekend was blocked off.”

“But,  _ mom _ .”

When Maggie first arrived, her wife and daughter had been checking abnormalities in blood samples. Jamie had a budding fascination in science that Alex was all too happy to foster, and after fretting about how loaded her days had been, she had purposefully carved out an afternoon for the two of them to conduct a simple experiment. 

(She now had two nerds to contend with, but figured it was better to leave them to it).

Maggie had been surprised to find Jamie peering into a microscope, concentrating hard as Alex encouraged her to share what she was seeing on the slide. She had a notorious fear of blood, as evidenced by a few fainting episodes and a disastrous introduction to the teenage menstrual cycle.

_ “How did you manage to convince her to do that?” _

_ “She wanted to do the experiment,” Alex had said, smug, “And to cope with blood, you’ve got to be brave.” _

And it had been jovial for all of ten minutes after her arrival. A slippery slope of a conversation about plans for the weekend had been a catalyst for the argument that had recurred over the past few weeks, growing more intense each time it came up: Jamie’s match against her team’s greatest rivals fell on the same day as the beginning of the balloon festival.

Now, the experiment lays abandoned on the bench, the biological reaction on its slide nothing compared to the catastrophic reaction engulfing the room. 

“There isn’t a choice here.” 

“But I’m on fire this season.” Jamie looks wildly between her mothers. “They  _ need _ me!” 

“No. That’s final.” Alex has sharpened her authoritative edge, palms spreading out on the lab table.

Jamie focuses her pleading eyes on Maggie, who finds it hard to disagree with her. She  _ is _ the top scorer for the team this season, an achievement with which they all shared pride. That said, this would be the first year in a decade they had missed the annual festival. 

At fifteen years old, Jamie has been with them longer than she lived on that other Earth. She has grown to be so much like them both. She excels in school, particularly science classes, but is equally at home on the soccer field as the lab. She has Maggie’s drive, but a mind like Alex; which has inevitably led to some confrontation over the years. 

“Please, mom,” Jamie tries again, this time focused on Maggie, who nips at the inside of her cheek. 

She catches Alex ball her hands into fists on the table, hears Jamie’s feet shuffle a step closer. If she chooses sides, like she has in a thousand arguments just like this one, she will face backlash from the opposition.

Finally, she surrenders her palms. Truth be told, Maggie is sick of both of them fighting. Like two magnets which violently repel when forced together, Alex and Jamie can be  _ too _ alike, which unfortunately means she is all too often stuck in the middle.

Desperation sours into fuming rage. Jamie scowls, she snaps, _just like Alex._ “We are playing the _fucking_ _Hornets!_ No way am I missing it.”

Anger scrawls itself the same way across each of their faces— mirror images of each other— both unwilling to yield. 

Alex lifts her palm from the desk, stabbing a finger at her daughter. “Firstly, don’t you  _ dare _ use language like that with me again. Secondly, you aren’t going to the game. Final.”

“Whatever.” Jamie scowls and pushes out of her chair, the angry scrape of the metal on concrete ringing through the lab.

Like the very yellowjackets the rival team is named after, the abrupt end to the interaction stings both of them. Alex seems to recoil, even as Maggie reacts to the attitude. 

She fits her hands on her hips. “Where are you going?”

“To get a snack or something, I don’t know-” Jamie yanks open the glass door of her mother’s lab and storms away.

“Jam-” Alex rises from her own chair, calling out to her, but Jamie is already out of earshot. She hangs her head, shoulders slumping. 

The lab’s machinery hums at the lack of conversation. Maggie deflates, arms falling uselessly at her sides. 

Steepling her hands, Alex lets her forehead bow against them. “I hate when we fight.”

She stares at Jamie’s retreating form through the glass just a beat longer before focusing fully on her wife. She choses a weak sentiment, something to defuse the situation and avoid the risk of a second wind: “I know.”

Without a further reply, Maggie sinks into a chair by Alex’s side, strength sapped by a wave of deja vu. She’d experienced a similar scene played out years ago when Kara had sided with J’onn and cautioned Alex from going after her father. Her girlfriend’s eyes had burned with hot white fury, the abandonment she had felt spurring her to follow her own guidance. Maggie had backed Alex then— she’d been in her corner. 

Would Jamie seek Kara out now for that same comfort? The pattern in the past showed that her aunt could come into play as an ally in convincing her parents.

Untangling her fingers, Alex reaches out and rubs Maggie’s arm. Her reassurance brings them both back to the present: “Maggie, we’ll go to the festival. We haven’t missed it in ten years.”

Maggie shakes her head, tired of the argument, wanting it dropped altogether. “We aren’t missing that game.”

Alex fixes her with a look. “But-”

“She’s right. It’s the Hornets. We can’t-”

A siren wails, ringing out through the DEO and cutting off Maggie’s placation. They exchange a quick glance and Alex fits back into her Director role as they run from the lab towards the command center. 

Alex’s trot down the steps is halted by an agent informing her of the severity of the situation.

It’s a Level 6 incident— the likes of which they haven’t seen since the Kryptonians came. 

On the surface, it seems as if Alex slips into her role as operational leader like a second skin, but Maggie can see through it all. It’s been a decade since they’ve faced an emergency like this out of the blue. Ten years of sirens for hour-long breaches, minor protocol implementations, getting smarter and faster at preventing, rather than defending.

Alex’s eyes are white with fear, even as her orders are law. Her agents fall in line as she shouts directions at the squadrons. Black boots stomp through the halls, echoing the beating of a war drum as they rush to collect weapons. Maggie suits up as well, abandoning her well-worn leather jacket in Alex’s locker in favor of a sleeker, borrowed defensive kit. 

The rifle strapped to her back is set to kill.

Kara flies in, just as Alpha Team is strapping on their gear. Her cape billows behind as she falls into step with Alex. “I heard the sirens.” Seeing the red warnings flash on the screens, she swallows. “Level 6? Alex, we haven’t-”

“Supergirl.” Alex’s jaw tightens, so tight that Maggie isn’t sure she’s going to get the rest of her instruction out. Her hand lingers on the holster bucklers to her leg, fingertips twitching with nerves. “Get Jamie and go.”

“You need me here,” Kara protests. Over the years, they’d weathered every storm together. No evil, no enemy unable to be vanquished by the combined power of the Danvers sisters. 

Alex stands firm, issuing the most important order, “Get Jamie and go.”

“Alex. It’s a Level-”

“You heard me. Get her and go.”

Maggie can’t remember the last time the two have had a battle of wills like this - the woman of steel and her Kryptonian sister. They stand off, much more being communicated than being said.

“Alex-”

“You promised me, remember? If anything ever happened-”

“I can’t just leave!”

“You promised, Supergirl.”

If she ever had to make the choice between her sister and her niece, she was to choose Jamie. 

Kara hangs her head, duty heavy on her shoulders. Turmoil visibly rolls through the superhero, but they don’t have much time, sirens at workstations bleat out for attention, summoning them to the front lines. 

“Now go,” Alex commands.

Kara reaches out and squeezes Alex’s bicep, then looks at Maggie with an unreadable, resigned expression. Then she’s gone. 

Alex takes a deep breath to address a bank of agents working furiously at their keyboards. The sirens and panic mostly drown out her wife’s orders. Maggie watches Kara’s beeping tracker on a monitor as it leaves the DEO. Off the radar, out of sight, Jamie presumably with her. 

She doesn’t feel relief, not yet. Fear of the unknown has chilled her into numbness.

“You with me?” 

Maggie squares her shoulders as Alex turns back to her. She grips her firearm. Ready. 

“Ride or die.”

~

They rail against the invading hordes, beating them back once, twice, three times. But with each enemy combatant that falls, two more seem to take its place, and soon their defenses are overrun. 

The DEO has been impenetrable for a decade, and naturally their efforts shifted away from weaponry and tactical scenarios in favor of a renewed focus on research and development of more peaceful endeavours. 

They became complacent. 

Alex peels off a shot, gritting her teeth. “I should have drilled defence scenarios more, damn it.”

Maggie is close by, bullets whizzing by her head, energy blasts making the structure of the building tremble. All around them, their colleagues fall, but they don’t even have time to count those still standing. They have to fight back like they haven’t had to in years, this time without backup from Supergirl. 

It happens so quickly.

One of the assailants grabs Alex from behind and before she can try and grapple with them, he flings her through the air. She slams into the wall and crumples to the ground. There she lays, in the midst of the chaos. 

Maggie watches her prone form and panic sets in— their lifetime of firsts slipping away the longer Alex lies motionless on the pavement. 

As an agent she has been knocked down before— has been broken and bloodied and bruised— but she always gets back up. She always brushes herself off with a grin and comes back for more. 

But now...

Maggie rushes over, ducking underneath shots and blasts. On either side, agents topple to the ground, their screams of agony mingling with the sound of gunfire in a nightmarish chorus, but she continues on until she reaches her target. Alex is curled up in a fetal position, the utter stillness turning the blood in Maggie’s veins to ice. 

Fearing the worst, she kneels down, gently rolling Alex onto her back. Her desperation drowning out the logic that dictates she should leave Alex where she lay until medical attention can be rendered. Her hair is matted to her head, blood staining the strands an even darker red. There’s so much of it, seeping down her temple from a gash in her skull. It’s wet and warm and Maggie’s heart is in her throat.

“Alex?” She whispers her wife’s name like a prayer, desperate for any sign of life. “Baby?”

Eyelids flutter, revealing an unfocused gaze. She’s conscious, even if she’s not all there. “My leg,” she rasps, “I think it’s broken.”

Maggie fumbles with her radio, giving the order for Alex’s second in command to take over. She practically shields Alex from debris as medics sail across the melee towards them. Struggling between rapid action and caution over injury, the crouching medical team loads Alex on a stretcher. 

When she moves to stand, Agent Faden grabs her shoulder and yanks her away from rainfall of glass shards. 

“You’re a liability out here,” he shouts, “Take cover.”

“What?” She shakes her head. “But Alex-”

“You’re in shock. When it’s safe, we’ll get you.”

The other medics retreat out of sight of the battlefield. Maggie stumbles a step in their direction, skidding on the blood Alex had shed as she lay there. She haunches from the crashes reverberating in the air.

Hadn’t Jamie and Alex been checking the blood on the slide for abnormalities?

She puts a hand out to the wall to steady herself, gripping her gun with her other hand. Maybe Faden is right, she is in shock. 

_ Abnormalities.  _

Alex’s blood glitters on the glass. It clumps in the dust. 

_ To cope with blood, you’ve got to be brave.  _

~

Two medics exit Alex’s room, pulling down their face masks. She knows them both: Dr Hamilton, the resident doctor who Alex was determined to retain when she took over as the DEO Director, and Dr Casper, a younger, spritely man who they had all taken a shine to over the years.

He seems exhausted, running on fumes as he jitters his weight from one foot to the other. “Maggie, I’m sorry to have to tell you this. I really wish-”

She cuts him off, waving her hand and focusing on Hamilton. Sympathy could come later. She needs the hard facts now. 

Hamilton clears her throat, more battle-hardened, more prepared for the tough decisions. “There is some trauma. We won’t know how severe until the swelling goes down.”

Her head tips forward with the burden of the implication. Maggie can’t focus on anything except their scrubs spattered with blood— Alex’s blood— even as Dr Casper jumps back in with premature reassurance. 

“It could be nothing, Maggie, we just have to wait.” 

Past them, the glass windows of the med bay refract any activity inside. Monitors, medics, machines, they all flicker like tricks of light. “I understand.”

She turns away, pacing down the hall, unable to watch as the other medics hover over Alex’s broken body. 

It was too soon to think about the possibility of the end.

Maggie had turned 40 just a few weeks ago and Alex had teased her for being old, but the reality is that they’re both so  _ young.  _ They have so many years left to live, so much time to spend together. Jamie hasn’t even graduated high school or college. She hasn’t gone to prom or even on a first date-

“Mom!”

Maggie spins at the sound.

_ Jamie.  _

As soon as Kara’s boots hit the ground, Jamie is racing down the hall, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. She immediately engulfs Maggie in a hug that floods them both with relief. 

“Where’s mom?” she asks, stepping back. She searches for a third figure, craning her neck to see past Maggie, taking in the solemn faces of the medical personnel hurrying along. Agents are rushed into surgery, others hobble out, bandaged but upright. None of them are Alex. 

Fear seeps in as Jamie connects the dots too fast for Maggie to stop. Her mother’s blood-stained combat gear. Agents slinking by, avoiding her gaze. The way Kara remains on the periphery, mouth set in a grim line. Whiskey-hued eyes widen, brimming with tears. 

Eyes that are just like Alex’s.

Just like the ones that might never open again.

Maggie places herself between her daughter and the window, shielding her from the sight. Just for now. Just until she can break the news. She brushes some hair behind Jamie’s ear. “Listen to me-”

“Mom.” Jamie‘s voice quivers. “Where is she?”

Taking a breath, Maggie wills her pulse to slow. She has to remain calm for their daughter. She can’t break down. “She got hurt.”

“Real bad?”

There’s no sense in lying or trying to soften the blow. She nods. “Bad. But-”

Jamie lets out a distressed noise and bolts for the window leading into the medbay, pressing her fingers to the glass separating her from her mother. Alex is more frail than either of them have ever seen her, surrounded by tubes and machines, every inch of exposed skin mottled with bruising and swelling.

Maggie is by her side, hand steady on her shoulder. “You can’t see her yet, sweetheart.” 

She expects some resistance from her daughter— the girl has inherited so much of Alex’s disregard for the rules— but Jamie doesn’t plead to see her mother. Instead she whirls around to face Kara, fury etched across her face. “Why didn’t you help her?”

Kara startles into animation, half in shock. “What?”

“Jamie,” Maggie cautions.

“Why did you take me away?” Her hands tighten into fists. “Why didn’t you _ stay _ ?”

Maggie’s hand is steady at her elbow. “Jamie, c’mon.”

The girl wheels back to her mother, her voice trembling with panic and fear as she pleads, "Mom is hurt real bad. You've seen her. What if she doesn't wake up?"

Despite an attempt by Maggie to comfort her, nothing strays Jamie from the warpath. She swings back around to Kara, hardening, pushing against her aunt’s shoulder. 

“You could have stayed, you could have helped her. But you ran away. And now she could- I could lose my  _ mom _ . Why didn’t you stay and help?”

That day at Belmont Park, Jamie had been young, unaware of the argument between sisters— the covenant made. 

Kara had kept a promise. 

But revealing the nature of that promise would open up a can of worms that could never be closed. 

Maggie meets Kara’s gaze over Jamie’s head and immediately knows a decision has been made. She sees the resignation— the moment Kara decides that the truth cannot be hidden from her niece any longer. This is the moment Jamie’s world falls down around her, that her childhood is shattered. That she may never trust any of them again.

Jamie shoves at her again, even as she knows that Supergirl can’t be budged. "You're bulletproof. Nothing can hurt you. You could have stopped her getting hurt. Why didn’t you?"

"Jamie …"

“Answer me!”

Jamie’s voice rings around the space, passing agents flinching as they keep their heads down. Kara remains stone-faced against the fury of her niece. Completely calm. Maggie can’t say or do anything to stop this moment. She averts her eyes, unwilling to see another part of her daughter’s world shatter.

“You can be angry with me, Jamie. You’re probably going to be very angry, actually,” Kara says, “but you need to know.”

“Know what?” Jamie’s teenage angst doesn’t abate. “Know you abandoned-”

“Jamie.” Kara is firm now. She’d been there when a young Alex had been told her father was dead. She knows how to deal with the kind of pain-triggered tirade that is now mirrored in Jamie’s eyes. “I promised your mom I would do anything in my power to keep you safe, even if it meant she was left behind.”

Jamie waits, giving Kara the space to press on, “She  _ made _ me promise to protect her daughter.” 

Maggie’s throat convulses in dread, as dry as if she’d swallowed a mouthful of the dust from broken concrete. The bombshell is about to come. 

“And Rao,” Kara continues, her voice lower, “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to my niece.”

Jamie’s eyebrows twitch as she puts it all together; as two women she has grown up admiring slowly merge into one. Nothing dislodges Maggie’s voice from being stuck in her throat. She can only watch as Jamie’s face smooths into disbelief.

Kara wrings her hands together. “And it killed me to leave my sister behind, to leave her in danger, but I promised her. Just like she promised that no matter what happened to me, what danger I was in, she would get Evan to safety.”

“A-Aunt Kara?” Tears bead and begin to stream down her cheeks in two neat tracks, but she’s immobilized. The shock keeps her glued to the floor.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. I only wanted to keep you safe.”

“No-”

With that, all of Jamie’s walls come crumbling down, the revelation washing away all of her anger. She tries to resist when Kara pulls her in for a tight hug, but all of the fight has left her. She wraps her arms back around her aunt, the grief about her mother spilling out onto Kara’s shoulder.

Eventually, Doctor Hamilton brushes them out of the med bay and they set up camp in the break room. Jamie curls up on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest, exhausted and dejected. 

Maggie sits beside her, freshly showered and changed into Alex’s spare DEO workout gear, and Jamie leans into her side.

“Mom, I’m sorry,” she sniffles, using her sleeve to wipe her nose. 

“Why?” Maggie wraps an arm around her shoulders. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

“I’m sorry I got so mad about the stupid soccer game.” Her voice is muffled in Maggie’s sweatshirt. “I wanna go to the festival.” 

Maggie isn’t sure what to reply. The argument, the slides, they all seem years ago. 

Jamie sniffs, wiping her nose with her sleeve again. “I was such a stupid asshole and now she…”

Maggie kisses her forehead. She doesn’t want to think about the possibility that the three of them might not get the chance to attend either a match or a festival in the future. “Don’t worry about that now.”

She unzips the sweatshirt, draping it over Jamie’s shoulders. “I’ll get you some water.” 

Jamie nods, fingers tracing the stitched  _ Danvers-Sawyer _ below the DEO logo. “Thanks.”

The ice maker in the break room rumbles, shooting out cubes one at a time and Maggie sighs. Alex had been complaining about it for weeks, but hadn’t had the chance to file a service request with Pam. 

Maybe now she never would. 

The door squeaks open and her heart leaps, but it’s not Dr Hamilton with an update. Instead, a shock of blonde hair peers around the door. Evan, now four years old, has become every bit as curious as a reporter’s son should be. 

“Hi, Aunt Maggie!” he chirps, toddling into the room.

She blinks, surprised, the cup of water still half empty in her hand. “What are you doing without your mom?”

Seconds later, Kara bursts through the door. She’s shed her superhero suit, but she’s forgotten to put her glasses back on, frantic both from losing track of her son and from the possibility that she might lose her sister.

Jamie turns away with a scowl, refusing to look at her aunt.

Kara kneels down to scoop Evan up, holding him close to her, even as he tries to wiggle away to get to his cousin. 

“Jamie!” he calls, “Jamie, look!”

But Jamie stares at her sneakers. 

Kara’s shoulders fall at the rejection as she drifts towards Maggie. “Do you want to call Eliza or…?” 

“I would, but…” Twin storms rage within Maggie, the inward struggle of wanting the comfort that her mother in law could provide and needing to be there for her daughter. She casts a glance back at Jamie, whose eyes are red and brimming with fresh tears. This time, possibly, of anger and frustration.

There’s really no choice. “I’ll keep an eye on Evan. You go see her.”

Kara nods. 

There was a time when she and Maggie competed for Alex’s attention; when Maggie’s love for Alex had threatened to break the Danvers Sisters’ bond. Over the years, that had lessened. The tug of war over Alex is insignificant now.

Maggie is a sister to Kara now too.

When her aunt is out of normal human earshot, Jamie speaks up, voice cracking, “Is Grandma coming?” 

Maggie looks down into the cup, seeing the ice bobbing in the water, not knowing how to answer. Eliza would be here, that was certain, but the severity of Alex’s condition would determine when she would arrive.

She doesn’t want to think the worst. 

Not yet.

Not ever.

Sure that his mother is gone, Evan toddles over to Jamie. “You look sad.”

“My mom got real hurt, bud,” she croaks. 

He looks at Officer Pickles, tucked under his arm, and then back up at her. “Pickles said don’t be sad.” He holds Pickles up, beckoning Jamie to take him. “Here. You can borrow him to cuddle until you feel better.”

Jamie manages to crack a tiny smile at that. Pickles’s fur is matted with dirt, but otherwise he’s in great condition, considering how many Danvers children have loved him. She pats the empty spot on the couch and Evan scrambles up beside her, cuddling into her side.

She clutches Pickles tightly to her chest just as she used to when she was his age and finally drifts off. 

~

Maggie and Jamie spend the night at the DEO, crowded into the less than spacious recovery room. Alex has been out for hours, but neither of them want her to be alone if she wakes up in the middle of the night. 

Around three in the morning, Alex finally stirs. She struggles with the oxygen mask, sluggish and fumbling with the straps. 

“Maggie?” she croaks. 

Relief floods through her. Alex may be pale, her limbs bandaged and bruised, but she’s  _ alive _ . 

“Hey there, good looking,” she jokes, helping Alex with the mask. 

“That a joke?”

She picks up the cup of water that had been left by a medic and holds the straw up to Alex’s mouth to drink. She would follow up with an even drier comment, but she’s just pleased to support her wife in the banal act of drinking. 

“Thanks.” Alex struggles to focus on Maggie through heavy eyelids, the drugs playing havoc with her motor functions. "I promised to take you to a hot air balloon..." 

Maggie strokes Alex’s cheek, careful not to disturb the row of stitches. "If there's anything I've learned, there's always another festival."

Jamie lets out a snore from where she’s curled up with Pickles in the spare bed and Alex’s head lolls to the side. Her nose wrinkles as she spots the beloved stuffed pal. “Is that… Pickles?”

“He’s been dying to see you.” 

Even if it was meant to be light-hearted, the reference to death feels pointed. A sobering reminder of how close her wife had come to the end. She straightens and returns the water to the side. 

As much as she wants to celebrate the fact that Alex is alive and talking, there’s something Maggie needs to share. “Listen…” Maggie starts, scooting her chair closer to the hospital bed. “She knows about Kara now.”

Surprise flashes across Alex’s face before pain settles there. They’d both known Jamie would have to find out about Kara sometime, but they never wanted it to be like this. Alex sighs. “Well, that’s the final blow. The tooth fairy, Santa, now Supergirl.”

Maggie leans over to press a kiss to her forehead, hoping the simple action will convey the depth of her love.

“Do you want me to wake her up?”

Alex hums, watching as Jamie’s chest rises and falls in time with the heart monitor. “No, let her sleep.”

Maggie agrees that it’s the right decision after an ordeal of a day. “She was really upset about it, you know that.”

“Upset?” At first, Alex waves off the concern with a heavy limb. “She’s a Danvers.”

“I don’t think she’s talking to Kara.” 

“She…?” Alex takes a deep breath in through her nose, her optimism dissipating along with the cloudiness of the pain medication she’s on as she searches for clarity. “She took it that badly?”

“Yeah.” Maggie laces her hands together in her lap. “Like I said, upset.”

Upset is an understatement. She’d seen the way Jamie had pressed herself against the glass that separated her from Alex’s hospital bed. She’d heard the quiver of her voice, uncertainty and fear overcoming the relief of seeing Maggie. She’d held their daughter as she broke down, tears mingling with the blood that had stained her shirt. 

“This isn’t just losing her temper.” Jamie’s voice echoes in her head, how she’d rounded on Supergirl. Her sorrow at the truth, at Alex’s possible prognosis. The trust between her and her favorite aunt being severed. It would be a long road to regain that trust, if it ever could be. “It was…” 

Alex fumbles for Maggie’s hand, winding their fingers together as best she can with the pressure monitor clamped on. Her grip isn’t as firm as Maggie is used to, but it’s comforting. “Hey, I’m here. I’m flying over the desert with these painkillers but I’m here-ish.”

“Here-ish,” Maggie’s teases softly. This room had been the audience to their first vows of love after Alex had been rescued from the tank. They’d made promises here, plans for the future. Her recovery had been quick, the mental scars far outweighing the physical, but now -

“You’re gonna need physio.”

“I’m not in my twenties anymore,” Alex agrees, groaning as she shifts to frown at her right leg, inspecting the cast that stretches from just above her knee all the way down to her toes. “Dammit.”

“What?”

“Refracture of an old injury.” She tips her head back to stare at the ceiling. Her throat bobs, tone returning weaker. “I could have a limp.”

Maggie squeezes her hand. She hadn’t been able to help Alex through the recovery the first time, but she and Jamie will both be there every step of the way now, no matter how uneven those steps would be. “You’ve just woken up, don’t worry about that yet.”

Alex’s unfocused gaze drifts back to their daughter. Maggie knows that she’s running calculations through her mind already, despite the exhaustion seeping through her bones. Even after years of marriage— years of growing and being loved by her family— old wounds still fester within Alex. She measures her worth by her ability to perform, to provide. 

Inevitably she would need to take a step back at the DEO and depending on the lasting effects of the injury, she could very well be taken off the field for good. 

Alex’s eyes slip closed, her breathing evening out as she finally succumbs to sleep once more. Maggie traces the laugh lines on her cheeks, leaning over to press another kiss to her lips. There will be many serious discussions and difficult conversations in the days ahead, but for now, Alex is fine. She’s alive and breathing before her.

They have time.

~

They don’t end up making it to the Golden State Balloon and Wine Festival or the soccer game. 

Alex has to stay in the DEO med bay for a week and Jamie’s team refuses to let her feel any amount of guilt for wanting to stay with her mom. The day after she makes the call to her coach, they receive a box of assorted chocolates and a get well card signed by the whole squad. 

Maggie returns from the cafeteria to find Jamie perched on the edge of Alex’s bed, the box sitting unwrapped between them.

So much for dinner before dessert. 

Alex pops a sweet in her mouth. “I’m surprised you’re here at all, after you fainted at my bleeding finger…” 

“Stop bringing that up!” Jamie grimaces, crinkling up the paper wrapper of a chocolate covered cashew cluster and tossing it back into the box. “I was like eight!”

“Yeah? Well the blood I drew before our little experiment had you-”

“ _ Stop _ !”

Maggie abandons the bag of sandwiches on Alex’s bedside table and reaches over her wife to snag the last butterscotch square. 

“You were twelve.” she corrects, unable to help piling on, “When you almost fainted at the finger.”

Jamie folds her arms, pouting. “It was so gross!”

While she had expressed an interest in science as soon as she was old enough to follow basic lab safety regulations, Jamie’s passion for science was solely within the chemical and mechanical realms. The biological research aspects of Alex’s abilities and knowledge was an area she had no intentions of exploring for herself. 

This aversion to biological matter was galvanised when she stood next to her mother at her lab bench after school. One day, while setting up an experiment, a test tube shattered in Alex’s hand, cutting through her glove and slicing her finger open. The cut hadn’t been deep and the glass had been sterilised, but the sight of blood had been too much for Jamie. Thankfully, Alex’s quick reflexes had saved them a more serious trip to the medical bay and the story remained a favorite way to tease their daughter. 

Alex and Maggie share a chuckle at the memory, but Jamie grows quiet, ducking her head in a very  _ Alex  _ way. “It was weird, seeing my mom hurt. Like, it didn’t seem right, you know?” She seems to draw into herself, as if confession more than she had intended. 

Respecting the gravity of the remark in the circumstances, Alex picks around the box of chocolates, keeping her eyes off Jamie in case she’s embarrassed. Maggie hides a smile, fussing with the bag of sandwiches as Alex moves the conversation on.

“So are you telling your grandma that you won’t be a doctor, or am I?”

~

Sullen, one word answers.

Even if they aren’t directed at her, Maggie still cringes at the stiffness in responses. Then, Jamie hangs up and shoves her phone in her pocket. Her sneakers scuff through the dirt as she kicks along a pebble. 

Maggie locks eyes with Alex, who sighs in defeat. They had both been complicit in the lies and the secrets, yet Kara bore the brunt of the disdain. Even if it had been for all the right reasons, in Jamie’s eyes, it was some kind of betrayal. Yet no matter how they might want to mend things, Maggie knows too well how much it hurts to have trauma belittled and neither she or Alex have wanted to push Jamie into talking to her aunt. 

Alex’s crutches creak as she hobbles along, gritting her teeth as she navigates the uneven terrain. The bottle of prescribed pain medication remains in the car, untouched since her discharge from the DEO a week prior. 

Every ten feet, Jamie looks back, as if Maggie or Alex will disappear if they’re out of sight for more than a few minutes. 

This balloon festival wasn’t their usual, but Jamie had found it on google and insisted they go. Maggie and Alex both suspected this was an unnecessary penance for what had happened after the argument in the lab, but after so much time inside healing, Alex was raring to get outside again.

The journey had been several hours up the coast, necessitating a night’s stay in Midvale to break up the drive. A long car ride with a teenage daughter and a wife who still hasn’t been cleared to drive wouldn’t have been her first choice for a family vacation, but Maggie has never been able to say no to a Danvers Pout, let alone two. A balloon festival felt like the perfect place to be together.

There are enough similarities to their usual haunt that it feels as if they haven’t broken their decade-long tradition at all. There’s row after row of food stalls, the smell of popcorn and savory meats mingling with the salty sea air. There’s the ever-present sound of craft vendors hawking colorful handmade trinkets, competing with each other and the gulls to be heard. There’s even the old woman with the Russian sweets who fusses over Alex and her crutches, gifting them with extra chocolates when Jamie stumbles through their order. 

When Alex grows tired, she and Jamie lead her over to a picnic table. 

“Babe, are you sure you don’t want me to get your meds?” Maggie scoots closer to her wife. 

Alex’s smile is pained, but she shakes her head. “No, I just need some of that honey cake.” 

She reaches out to grab the box of sweets from Jamie, who holds it just out of reach. “Hey!”

“Not the Bird’s Milk,” Jamie instructs. 

“Okay, not the Bird’s Milk,” Alex promises. When Jamie doesn’t relent, she raises an eyebrow. “Is the reason you don’t want us eating the Bird’s Milk because you’re not huffing anymore?”

The box is thumped back on the table and pushed over as if the suggestion is repulsive. “No! I like them too.”

“Mmhmm.” Alex’s disbelieving tone is softened by her peering into the box. 

Jamie pinches a Bird’s Milk, unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. Through crisp chocolate glaze she grumbles, “I like them, too.”

Maggie recognises the wrapper as one of Kara’s favourites and she suppresses a smile. While the wound between Jamie and Kara won’t be healed with the offer of a few sweets, it is an offer nonetheless.

“Hey look,” Jamie says, eager to divert the attention to something behind their heads, “They’re offering a dollar for every kick up.”

Both of them twist to see a fenced area where two teenagers are kicking soccer balls into the air. Maggie sees a stall beside it selling confectionery and soft drinks, and handing out handfuls of change to kids who have completed the task. 

“You could make $100,” Alex says.

“What? No way!” Jamie says, shaking her head.

“At least $50 easy,” Maggie goads, “Come on, let’s see.”

Jamie looks longingly at the bag of soccer bags hanging from the stall, narrowing her eyes at the failed techniques of those attempting the challenge. “Fine. I can hit 50 easy.”

But as they rise, a hot air balloon makes it ascent overhead, casting the picnic table in its shadow. It drifts slowly by, just one of the many majestic patchwork marvels skirting the clouds. Maggie grins, the sight of it inflating her chest with joy. 

“Mom, look!” Jamie jabs a finger at the sky excitedly. She leaps up from the table, the box of sweets, the kick up challenge and the rift between her and her aunt forgotten. She looks back at her parents with pleading eyes. “Can I go up in one, please?”

“What about the challenge?” Maggie says.

“That can wait.” Jamie grins as the shadow passes and those in the basket wave down at the festival goers. She waves back, uncaring of the fact that they are strangers. “Please, mom?”

Alex eyes the balloon skeptically, lifting an eyebrow. "You're leaving your phone with me, cause if you drop it out of the hot air balloon, it's gone."

Jamie comes back to Earth, searching for Alex’s hand. “You can come too, right?”

“Oh, god, with this?” Alex waves down at her leg, bracketed with a state-of-the-art brace. Even with Brainy’s advanced technology, it would be a long time before she would be free of the device. 

Jamie grins, dimples prominent on her cheeks. “Come on, we can help you in.”

Making a noise of alarm, Alex swings her attention to Maggie. “What do  _ you  _ say?”

Maggie looks up at the balloons, near and far, all different designs and all traversing different paths in the sky. She is as in love with them as she was at five years old, begging her father to let her go up in one. 

Jamie giggles. “I think she’s made the decision for you, mom.”

Alex huffs. “I agree. Help me up.”

Maggie hooks her arm around Alex and helps her stand. “You're sure about the challenge?”

But Jamie is already backing towards the bank of balloons. “What’s a couple kicks of a soccer ball compared to this?”

“Well, I tried to tell you that weeks ago, but no, we had to argue,” Alex complains as she fits her crutches under her arms.

It isn’t easy for the three of them to make their way to the balloons, crutches and all. It definitely isn’t easy for Alex to maneuver her way into the basket but Jamie insists the three of them go up together. 

Maggie leans on the basket, indulging in the dream she had had since she was five years old. The dream she’d been told she couldn’t experience. She wonders what that child would feel now, gazing up to see herself from between the food stalls, her future wife and daughter by her side.

Rising up into the cloudless blue sky, Alex bumps her daughter’s elbow and whispers, “Now that you know what flying is like, you can stop being jealous and stop sulking about your aunt.” 

Jamie groans and rolls her eyes, but after a few seconds she starts to grin. Alex soon mirrors that expression, and with the magic of the balloon ride and the worries of the world far below them, Maggie soon finds her own broad smile spreading across her face. 

Yeah, they were going to be okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the fluff. Won't stay that way for long...


End file.
